


Girlfriend

by ReallyEleanor



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-21
Updated: 2020-07-23
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:48:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 53,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25414936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ReallyEleanor/pseuds/ReallyEleanor
Summary: Five years after Atlantis, John and Rodney meet someone interesting. Suspense plot element.
Relationships: John Sheppard/Original Female Character(s), Rodney McKay/John Sheppard, Rodney McKay/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 12





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I posted this as author Luvsciencegeeks on Wraithbait. Sincere thanks to Visceral Thrill (Reddit. for helping me recover this story.

"Excuse me, are you Dr. McKay?"

Rodney looked up from his desk. He'd been grading papers, something that could usually be guaranteed to put him into an even worse mood, and today was no exception. "You are bothering me because . . . ?"

"I'm Catherine Schaeffer," she walked forward and held out her hand. Rodney put down his pen and shook it.

"And you are disturbing me because . . . ?" he continued.

"I volunteer in the student writing center. One of your Physics 101 students asked me to proofread his term paper. I had a question about one of the points he's making in the paper."

"Can't you just do the grammar and leave the physics to the professionals?"

"The more mistakes I catch now, the less there will be for you to struggle through later," she dangled, trying to alleviate some of the hostility in the room. No surprise---she'd been told to expect it. Her teaching assistant mentioned something about a grizzly bear with a sore head.

"Look, Girlie. I'm busy and I don't have time right now to go through the entire course and get you up to speed. Just leave the paper and leave yourself."

"Dr. McKay, perhaps you should hear the question first?"

"What part of 'go away' did you not understand?"

"Rodney!" another voice entered the conversation. "You're being rude. You should just hear the lady out."

"Just because she's got nice tits and good legs is no excuse for wasting my time, John," Rodney went back to grading his papers.

Catherine reddened slightly but didn't flinch. "Dr. McKay, my father was a physicist. He taught at Washington State. I grew up with physics at dinner. However, he was strictly relativistic. This is string theory, and he refused to allow it in the house."

John Sheppard chuckled as Rodney gave him an exasperated look. "Since neither of you will leave me in peace, ask your question, Girlie." She moved next to Rodney at his desk and their heads bent together over the paper.

John watched the two interact over her question. Whoever she was (John was pretty sure her name wasn't 'Girlie'), she was a looker. Blonde hair, looked like a lot of it, all piled up. Legs up to her armpits, skirt demure but a bit on the short side for academia, and her sweater did nothing but enhance those nice tits. He could see her left hand, and she had no wedding ring. He hadn't expected much from this visit to Rodney's office, but things were looking up.

Catherine could feel the tall man's eyes on her. At the moment, she wished she'd worn something more like a burlap sack than this outfit her sister had insisted she buy. She felt naked, as though he'd undressed her with his eyes. And now, thanks to Dr. McKay, she understood what she needed to about BPS black holes in order to finish proofing the paper. Time to escape back to the relative obscurity of the English department.

She finished her discussion and stood up. "Thank you, Dr. McKay. I appreciate your time." The tall man had moved close enough to her that she would have to ask to go around him now. She was an English professor with bifocals, for heaven's sake, and he was acting like she was an actress or something.

"Hi. I'm John Sheppard," he held out his hand to her.

"Catherine Schaeffer." They shook hands.

"Are you free for lunch, Miss Schaeffer?" John asked.

"It's Dr. Schaeffer, Mr. Sheppard. Are you inviting me to lunch?" she corrected him, but gently.

"I am. Would you like to join me for lunch, Dr. Schaeffer?"

"As it happens, I'm free until 1:30." It was 11:30 now.

"Excuse me," Rodney put in. "John, my office is not your personal dating service. I thought we were going to lunch." He was more than a bit miffed. John managed to close the deal before Rodney could even get started. The Kirk genes again. How the hell did he do that?

"We can have lunch any time, Rodney," John looked briefly at Rodney, and then back to Catherine. He held out his arm to her in a very courtly manner and she took it with her own. They walked out the door.

Rodney watched them thoughtfully. She was quite a looker, and he'd never seen her on campus before. Of course, the sciences and languages were well-segregated on this campus, so that wasn't really a surprise. But you'd think at some all-faculty colloquium or something . . . Graduation, maybe? What it really meant is that John probably wouldn't be home tonight— unless it took him more than one date. If John was home, well, getting turned down turned him on and Rodney always enjoyed that. She was almost sexy enough to entice him into bed.  
He and John had come to terms with this long ago. John loved Rodney, and Rodney knew that. But John also loved pretty girls. Every few years, John came across a girl that seriously attracted him. John would do whatever it took to get her into bed, and then she'd find out he lived with Rodney, and that would be it. He was sure John got off on those scenes, but he could never prove it. John always came home to Rodney, and the little interlude away seemed to spice up their relationship.

Catherine accepted the ride in John's Jaguar XK. A very expensive performance sports car, just what she expected. It went with the messy hair and the flight jacket. "Okay, I'm going to guess here, but with the sports car and the flight jacket, I'm thinking—pilot?"

John laughed. "Good guess. Started out Air Force, now commercial. Since I drive a bus at work, I like to drive the faster model on my own time. What kind of food do you like?"

"Anything. Why don't you take me to your favorite place?"

"My favorite place?" John smiled, and the grin was purely lecherous. She shivered, but smiled back, understanding him completely, and knowing that suggestion wouldn't involve food. Had a bolder personality come with her new sweater?

"Are you cold? I can turn up the heat. I know I should get something more practical for winter, but it's an image thing."

"I'm fine. That's not why I shivered," she put her hand on his arm. "Maybe I should have said your favorite restaurant." She smiled back at him, gently telling him to slow down with her eyes.

"Can't blame a guy for trying," they were at a stop sign, and he looked her up and down, taking in the tight sweater and short skirt, now even shorter since she was sitting in the car.

"I don't. I'm flattered. But that's a little too fast, even for me," she laughed.

"Okay, just cheeseburgers for lunch. That okay with you, Cathy?"

"Please, John, don't call me Cathy. Anything but that. And yes, cheeseburgers are fine. But only if they have good fries, too. I loooove burgers and fries," she smiled.

"You must not eat them very often, though." He knew she couldn't keep that figure on a steady diet of fast food.

"I don't. I don't eat out much, since it's just me."

"So, you're not attached or anything?"

"No. I haven't had any kind of relationship in ages."

"Are the men around here blind, or just stupid?"

"Neither. Just not my type."

"What is your type?"

She paused, searching for a word to accurately describe her needs. "Unconventional."

"Unconventional? How?"

"It's hard to explain. I'm a little gun-shy of permanence and picket fences. Does that make sense?"

"Yes, it does." John thought about the relationships he'd seen up close and personal. Most of the people who had been married before they went to Atlantis cheated. His parents and Rodney's parents weren't exactly poster children for happy marriages. So many people he knew were divorced. He concentrated for a few moments on his driving.

"So why exactly were you in Rodney's office?"

"I'm in the English department. Newest tenured faculty. Therefore I get the classes none of the senior faculty wants, and I have to put in so many hours in the student writing center, undoing four years of lousy high school teaching. One of Dr. McKay's students asked me to proof his term paper, and I had a question about black holes in string theory."

"String theory?" John laughed. According to Rodney, maybe one day someone would figure out what he already knew, that there was actually a bridge between relativity and string theory. But for now, all Rodney did was laugh at others' attempts to merge the two. "I'll bet he had an earful about that."

"My dad was a physicist, and he refused to have string theory in the house. One of my brothers was fascinated by it, and works with it now, and Dad just about pops a vessel every time they get together."

John parked in front of a greasy spoon diner that Catherine wouldn't have wanted even to drive by. It looked like ptomaine and e. coli would be the two main things on the menu. John could clearly read the skepticism in her face as he opened her door. He offered a hand and watched her get out of the car gracefully, exposing a little more leg, and continued to hold her hand to the front door of the diner. He opened it for her, and steered her to a booth in the corner.

Catherine was surprised at how clean the place was inside. An older waitress, about the age her mother would have been, practically dropped a customer's plate to get to them.

"Johnny Sheppard!" she smiled at him and brought out her order pad. Her name tag said Celia, and was fastened to her traditional uniform over a lacy hanky. "Today's not your usual day to come see me! Who's your friend?"

"Celia, this is Dr. Catherine Schaeffer, and I have it on good intel that she likes cheeseburgers and fries," he leaned closer to Celia and whispered. "This is our first date."

"First date?" Celia laughed. "Naughty boy. Bringing your girlfriend here to meet me. You think she'll ever go out with you again after this?"

"I'm hoping." John looked at Catherine, smiling at their banter.

"Whaddya teach, hon?" Celia asked Catherine.

"English 101 and 102. Basic writing. Some creative writing. I fight the losing battle against the dark forces of text messaging."

"Cheeseburgers for you both?"

"With fries and cokes?" John queried Catherine with his eyes.

"Absolutely!" Catherine didn't care what else they had on the menu, this was definitely a cheeseburger day. What the hell—she'd have Slim-Fast for supper.

Celia put in their order, brought their cokes, and left them alone, except for bringing their lunch and refills. They spent the next hour talking and licking their fingers. At 1:00, they were in the car headed back to campus. John parked in the dean's space and walked her up to her office. He was not surprised at the contrast between it and Rodney's office. Both had desks, shelves, and a couch, but hers was definitely feminine. Chintz curtains, an Oriental rug, and candles. There were even fresh flowers. What really surprised John, though, was that her coffee maker was an even higher-end model than Rodney's. And she'd made space for a student or her graduate assistant under the window. Rodney refused to have a TA unless it was someone exceptional, and then he worked them like a slave.

Speaking of graduate assistants, as they were saying their goodbyes, Catherine's bounded in as John was trying to pin Catherine down on dinner plans.

"I'm sorry, Dr. Schaeffer," she started to back out.

"Wait, Annie. John, this is my assistant, Annie Bruce. Annie, this is Mr. Sheppard, a friend of mine. Let me give you these papers, and you can take them ahead and pass them out. I'll be a few minutes late." Annie gave John another look, mouthed 'he's hot' behind his back, and took off with the papers Catherine would hand back during her next class.

"I have to go, John. I have a class in a few minutes."

"Are you SURE you won't have dinner with me tonight?"

"I can't. See that other stack of papers?" John couldn't miss it. There was a stack at least three inches high on her desk. "I have to have those graded by tomorrow noon. Are you free tomorrow night? I've got one day's break before I start finals."

"As it happens, I am free tomorrow night." He had a short run to New York and back early tomorrow. "Pick you up at seven?"

"That would be fantastic," she smiled, and he thought again how much he was going to enjoy this 'little interlude,' as Rodney called it. She took a card off her desk and wrote on the back. "Here's my phone number and address. See you tomorrow at seven."

She grabbed her briefcase and headed out the door, waiting for John to follow and closing it behind him.  
\---------------------  
Rodney knew when he walked in the door that John hadn't gotten lucky with the sexy English teacher, because he could smell dinner cooking.

"No luck, I see," he dumped his briefcase and came over for a kiss. "Smells good."

"It's that soup you like," John kissed him, hard. "We're having dinner tomorrow night." He paused, then continued, tentatively, "Rodney . . . "

"John, it's okay. I know . . . "

John kissed him again. "Are you finished grading papers?"

Rodney groaned. "No, but thanks to your lunch date I'm a little ahead. I won't be late to bed."

"I'll keep your spot warm." They kissed again, and Rodney headed to his study.

Rodney was right. That night, John was erect and ready when Rodney came to bed. Rodney was hardly in their bed before John grabbed him and pulled him into the middle. Then John was fucking Rodney with his mouth, sucking, licking, until Rodney was almost there. John pulled away, and the moan Rodney made was one almost of loss. John pulled out the lube, and readied himself. He centered Rodney carefully, then moved down onto Rodney and started moving. He moved up and down, with the rhythm Rodney needed. He felt Rodney stiffen and come inside him. That was John's signal to let go, and he did, not thinking but feeling how much he loved this man.


	2. Chapter 2

"I swear. Sheila said Angel said Amanda said Leon saw Dr. McKay kissing that Sheppard guy. I swear. McKay's supposed to be gay. And that Sheppard guy's supposed to live with him."

"Let me get this straight, Annie," Catherine winced at her own joke, "you have it on the best third-hand authorities that Sheppard and McKay are gay. The man that took me to lunch."

"Swear. Sheila . . . "

Catherine cut her off. "Okay. I'll take your word for it. I promise to not fall for a man that's gay." Where did Annie find out all this stuff? For a grad student, Annie was singularly well informed about the love lives of the faculty of the university, as well as most of the student body. That in itself was amazing considering the SIZE of the university. Oh, well. Sometimes it came in handy.  
\--------------------  
"Thank you for dinner, John. That was lovely," Catherine said as they walked back to the car. John helped her in, watching tonight's shorter skirt ride up attractively.

"You are very welcome. I have very much enjoyed our evening." More courtly behavior.

"It's still early yet, and my first final isn't until ten tomorrow. Would you like to come in for a drink at my place?" Catherine knew John would take this as an invitation to her bed, but she wouldn't have made it if she hadn't wanted him. This was the first time in years she'd been attracted to a man enough to invite him home.

John tried hard to keep the leer out of his voice. "I would love to have a drink with you, Catherine," he said. If he was reading her correctly, this was an invitation he didn't want to turn down.

She had a nice house in a nice neighborhood. John guessed this would be called Craftsman style, and was probably a hundred years old. It was kept up nicely, John could tell. The flower beds were empty except for the dormant perennials, but he'd bet they were beautiful in the summer. Catherine had left the porch light on, and he could see some nice chairs and a double swing. She unlocked the door and held out her hand for him to follow her inside.

John closed the door with his other hand and then pulled her close. She looked up at him and he kissed her. Her lips were warm, and her mouth was sweet from the creme brulee she'd had for dessert. She opened to him eagerly, and he plundered her mouth with his tongue. He cupped her face in his hand and tangled his fingers in her hair. He let go of her hand, and then that hand snaked around to her back. Slowly, he worked it down to her bottom and cupped her butt. When she didn't resist, he pulled her close enough that she could feel his erection through their clothes.

She broke off. "John, I need to ask you something."

His lips were at her neck, now, kissing and nibbling. "Mmm . . . "

"Did you bring . . . ?"

"In my jacket pocket."

She pulled back, and he had to stop his caresses. "I have to know something. This isn't just some game, or some bet? Are you serious about this?"

"What?"

"Making love with me. You're serious about wanting me, and it's not something else?"

"Very serious. You are seriously beautiful, and I am seriously hard for you."

"What about Rodney?" her question was very soft, but he heard it as though she'd shouted.

"Rodney?" That was the LAST question he'd expected right now.

"My TA says the word on the street is that you and Rodney are a couple. If that's the case, I don't want to come between you two."

John ran a hand through his perpetually messy hair, not doing it any favors, and looked at the wall behind Catherine. There was some kind of landscape, probably done in oils, on the wall. For the moment that was all he could think about. His other hand was no longer on her butt but on his hip.

"John?" Catherine asked, well aware that she'd probably ended her chances of sex with John. It would be a disappointment, but she could always continue what she had been doing—celibacy. It wasn't fatal, just frustrating.

"Look, Catherine . . . I don't know what to say." She took his hand and led him to the living room sofa.

"Is it some kind of game?" When he looked puzzled, she said, "You seem to be really attracted to me. Unless that attraction is some kind of joke or game. I need to know."

"No games. I want you. Very much."

"Then tell me about Rodney."

John looked thoughtful. "We've been together for years. Almost ten now. We've been through a lot, and we do love each other." His hazel eyes now looked at his hands. Then he looked at her. "But sometimes a certain woman catches my eye. Like you did. Rodney calls it an 'interlude.' And I have both for a while. Until she finds out and goes nuts. Rodney always waits for me."

"He really doesn't mind?"

"No. I don't think he does. His work is so consuming. Sometimes I think I need him more than he needs me."

"So I'm an interlude?"

"Well, you were."

"Why 'were?'"

"Now that you know about Rodney . . . "

"I'm okay with this as long as you—and Rodney—are. I won't come between you. It would be wrong for me to do something that would hurt your relationship, no matter how much I want you." He looked surprised. "I've been celibate for eight years, John. In all that time, you're the only man who has ever held even the slightest interest for me. And believe me, my interest in you is NOT slight. I really want you."

John now noticed that she was sitting next to him, very close, and her hand was on his thigh. Very near his crotch. "You're really still interested?"

Catherine leaned in and kissed him, lightly at first, then he took over and kissed her thoroughly. His body was getting interested again, and he pulled her onto his lap.

They were necking like teenagers on her couch. Their shirts were unbuttoned, and he was trying to find the clasp of her bra with his hands. Yes, it had been a few years since he'd been with a woman, but he couldn't find the damned clasp.

"John, it's in the front," she laughed into his lips.

He moved his hands to the front of her bra. He fumbled for a few minutes, still kissing her, and he felt her shoulders shaking gently. He moved back and saw she was laughing. Her eyes were kind, though, and he couldn't help but laugh, too.

"Let me. I wondered about wearing this, but it's the most . . . enhancing one I have."

Catherine reached up and unhooked her bra. She moved her hands away to let John move it off her breasts.

John looked in her eyes, then down at her chest. She watched him as he moved the two sides of the bra apart and her breasts sprang out. She had said this particular bra 'enhanced' her best. It actually squashed her a bit as it shaped her. Now he could see her naked breasts, high and full.

Catherine was well endowed. John noticed it right off the first time they'd met. And now, he was looking at them, amazed at how beautiful they really were. Round and firm, her nipples were brown and pink circles in the middle. "Beautiful," he breathed out. Taking one at a time in his mouth, he explored them thoroughly, then kissed her again.

"John," she breathed his name as his lips went back to her neck, "Let's go to bed."

He stood up and grabbed his jacket where it was lying over the back of the sofa and grabbed the strip of condoms out of the pocket. He reached his hands out to her and pulled her up to him. He kissed her again, and she turned and led him up the stairs, tongues still entwined.

Her bedroom wasn't what John expected. It wasn't an oasis of chintz and flowers like he'd thought it would be. No ruffles, no lace, no flounces, no frills. Candles, yes, but the room had almost a zen-like quality. Solid colors, wood furniture, and soft surfaces. Neat—very neat—and it smelled good, but not girly.

Catherine pushed John's shirt off his shoulders and moved to his belt buckle. From there, their clothes seemed to melt off, and then they were on the bed. Touching, tasting, licking, sucking, nibbling, they learned each other's bodies. They took their time, relishing slow discovery. She watched him roll on the condom, her eyes hungry and longing. John loved the contrast between her body and Rodney's. He desired both of them, needed both of them, but in different ways. She was soft curves, Rodney was hard planes.

John's fingers opened Rodney when they made love. Now, his fingers opened Catherine, sliding in and out. His thumb went to her clitoris, and he tried several motions until she started jerking under him. When he felt her contracting around his fingers, he entered her and began thrusting, slowly at first, and then hard and fast until he came.

Before he could pull out, Catherine wrapped her legs around his thighs and her arms around his waist, keeping him with her. "Cath? Am I too heavy?"

"No, you feel really good. I just still want to be close to you."

"I'm not leaving. Let me up, and we can cuddle."

She let him go and he rolled to his back. He lifted one arm over his head and she settled in with her head on his shoulder, one of her legs over his.

"John?"

"Mmmm."

"That was wonderful. Thank you."

"Cath, I'm supposed to thank you, aren't I?"

"You're welcome."

"So if I wake you up for more sex later . . . " he hugged her.

"That's a good idea," she kissed his chest where her lips met it.

"Good night, Catherine," he hugged her.

"Good night, John," she snuggled a little closer.  
\----------------------  
Rodney stumbled to bed well after midnight. There wasn't any point in going to bed earlier if John wasn't there. He'd been able to function on only a few hours' sleep all of his adult life, so why should tomorrow be any exception? Surprisingly, he didn't toss and turn, but went almost right to sleep. His last thoughts were of the couple together somewhere across town. John hadn't done this in years—what was so special about this Catherine? Tomorrow. He'd think about it then.  
\---------------------  
John went to turn on his side, and felt the body next to him. After being together so long, he and Rodney didn't sleep so close together anymore. And this definitely wasn't Rodney, he thought as he felt a breast under his hand. Smooth and curvy, not hairy and hard. John's hand moved lower, between her legs. Catherine was still asleep, but she was stirring under his hands.

"Mmmm, John?"

"Mmmm, Catherine?" he kissed her.

"That's good," she gasped, and she tried to urge him closer. John rolled on another condom and moved into her. Her moans were so sexy as he thrust into her, going deep, then pulling out. In and out, and the next time she tightened her muscles around him, not wanting to let him out. God, that was tight! So tight, John couldn't hold back and he bucked inside her, feeling her come around him.  
\-----------------------  
They had sex two more times before John left. Like most men, he woke up hard, and she wanted to take advantage of it. She made him breakfast, and afterward they showered together, and did it up against the wall, wet and hot and slippery. They never did talk about much that morning, just enjoying each other's company and the small talk of lovers. And she didn't say a word as he kissed her goodbye at the front door. She watched him drive away and closed the door.  
\----------------------  
John pushed the button of the garage door opener, and then closed it behind the car. It was still early, just seven thirty, and Rodney had probably been up most of the night. Climbing the stairs up to the condo from the garage, he wondered about what he had done. Usually, one night with the woman in question was enough to get it out of his system. But with Catherine, he wanted more. How could he reconcile that with his need for Rodney? Was it over between them? The thought that he'd never be with Rodney again made him physically sick. Was it wrong to want them both?  
\----------------------  
Well, he was gone. She'd never let a man in her house before, but she was glad John had been here. Now, at least, for the next eight years, she'd have something to dream about. She doubted she'd ever see him again, unless it was with Rodney at some faculty function. Not likely. It hurt. She was a woman with a woman's needs, and when she finally found someone who could meet them, he turned out to belong to someone else. It would hurt for a long time, but it had been worth it.  
\----------------------  
Rodney was still asleep. There wasn't any coffee in the pot. John went through the motions and made coffee, knowing after all these years together how Rodney liked it, and he watched it brew. He pulled Rodney's mug from the dishwasher, and filled it. Today Rodney had office hours at nine thirty. He'd have time to make love to Rodney and reconnect.

John took the mug and walked down the hall and up the stairs to their bedroom. The room was dark, and Rodney was still asleep. John set the mug on the night table next to Rodney and started taking off his clothes. He crawled in next to Rodney and started caressing his lover. Rodney rolled onto his back, and John wrapped his hand around the base of Rodney's erection. He took Rodney in his mouth and started moving his hand and his tongue, sucking the way he knew Rodney liked it. It didn't take long, and he tasted the bitter taste of Rodney's come in his throat. He sucked Rodney into a longer orgasm, and then moved up to hug him and hold him close.

Later, they were both in the bathroom shaving. "Well, how was she?" Rodney asked.

"It was good. She's—" John stopped, razor in midstroke.

"She's what?" Rodney looked at John.

John put the razor down. "I don't know, man. You know what she asked me?'

Rodney shook his head briefly; he was working on his upper lip.

"She found out through her gossipy TA that we're together, and asked me if you were okay with me making love to her. She was concerned about our relationship."

"She knew you live with me and she still fucked you?" Rodney put down his razor.

"We did it four times. Four very hot times."

"She knew you were gay and she still slept with you?" Rodney couldn't believe it.

"First time that's ever happened. And there weren't any tears, or 'call mes' or any of that other girls' shit that usually blows up in your face. She kissed me goodbye at the door and that was it."

"So she was good?" They both picked up their razors again.

"Fuck, yeah. Remember that sweater?"

"You mean the tits in the sweater, don't you?"

"Yeah. Well, they're better without anything on them. Gotta be double Ds at least, and they are all real."

"Is she a natural blonde?"

"She is. And you should see all that hair when it's down and that's all she's wearing. You've always liked blondes."

"So you're saying I should do her, too?"

"I think you'd both enjoy it, actually."

"I haven't been with a woman in, what, ten or twelve years?"

"Like riding a bike—you don't forget."

"And like that's going to happen. You wanna see her again?"

"I don't know. She's kind of interesting, even without the sex. For an English teacher. Maybe we should take her out on a date."

"We? As in the two of us gay men take a woman out on a date?"

"Why not?"

"And go where?"

"Dinner. A movie. Shit, I haven't dated in over a decade. How the hell do I know what people do on a date these days? You hang out with kids all day—what do they talk about?"

"Nothing I ever listen to if I can help it. You think I should do her, and you still want to do her? Are you thinking threesome?"

"I could probably get it up for that," John grinned at Rodney in the mirror, that grin Rodney knew so well, all lust and lech. Rodney just picked up the towel, wiped the shaving cream off his face, and threw the towel at John. He needed to get dressed and get to work—and he definitely needed more coffee.


	3. Chapter 3

"Hey, Dr. McKay," Rodney cringed inwardly. Rodney heard running feet and knew his colleague, Dr. Jasper had caught him. Dr. Jasper, Rodney felt, struggled to teach basic Newtonian physics, much less anything more complicated, but at least he used Rodney's beginning physics textbook.

"Dr. Jasper. What can I do for you this fine afternoon?" Rodney said while thinking 'except for throw you out the window of your office and see if you bounce?'

"My wife and I were going to take our daughter to this concert tomorrow night, but Stacy has the flu. The Little Woman won't get a babysitter when Stacy's sick, so I'm trying to find a home for the tickets. It's that sold-out Celtic Christmas thing at the arena."

"Why would I—" Rodney stopped mid-sentence. "Dr. Jasper, I would love to buy your tickets."

Jasper pulled the envelope out of his tacky sport coat pocket and handed it to Rodney. "On the house. I got them free, myself. Enjoy. Got a hot date?"

"Very hot. This is just what I needed. Thanks, man," Rodney clubbed him on the shoulder and walked off. He took his cell phone out of his pocket and dialed John.

"Yeah, Rodney?" John answered.

"Call your girlfriend and ask her out for tomorrow night. I just scored us three concert tickets to some Celtic chick concert thing. We've got ourselves a date!"

John got off at the next exit. He pulled out his wallet and found Catherine's card. He dialed the number on his cell, hoping she wasn't in class or something. "Dr. Schaeffer."

"Catherine? This is John."

She about dropped the phone. He was actually calling her? What, did he leave his watch on her night table or something? "Hello, John. How are you this afternoon?"

"I'm good, but I'll be better if you go out with me tomorrow night."

"You want to go out with me again?"

"Yes, Catherine, I do. Really. Rodney and I have three tickets to the Celtic Christmas concert tomorrow night, and we want you to come with us. A real date. Dinner first and everything."

"You AND Rodney want to take me out on a date?"

"Umm, yeah. Is that a problem?"

"No, actually, it's not. I'd love to go. What time?"

"We'll pick you up at five thirty. The concert's at eight, and that gives us enough time to eat and park and stuff."

"That sounds great. I'll see you both tomorrow." She put down the phone, and looked into space. She picked it up again and dialed her TA's cell number. "Annie, I have an emergency. I need a date dress. I have an hour. Let's go shopping."

John hung up. Well, they were in it now. She'd either say no and they'd go on their way, or she'd say yes, and who knew what would happen?  
\------------------  
Should she have gone for the black one? Or was that too obvious? Or was it even possible to be too obvious when you were trying to get a gay man to be interested in your body? It made her head hurt to think about it. Oh, well, red was a Christmas color and it was December. Long sleeves—the arena was notoriously cold in winter, even with 15,000 bodies adding heat—tight through the bodice, short skirt with a slit. And low cut. If she bent over wrong, she'd fall out of this thing. She'd bought some sexy undies, too—garter belt, stockings, panties that were barely there. And this bra had a front clasp again. With luck, she'd get to teach John how to undo it.

John pulled up in front of the house. Since there were three of them, they couldn't take the Jag, but they had a Lexus for when Rodney's sister came to visit. Of course, Maddie wanted to drive the Jag, and it amazed John that she was almost old enough now. The porch light was on, and he got out and walked quickly up the sidewalk.

Catherine picked up her purse. She'd seen this purse in a display by the cash register at the last minute and had added it to her purchase, staggered by the price of it. But it matched the shoes. With these heels, she'd be a whole three inches taller. But could she pull it off without falling off the stupid things? It had been a long time since she'd been in her Ph.D. program, paying for part of it with tips from working as a cocktail waitress.

When she saw John coming up the walk, Catherine grabbed her cloak. She put it on before he could ring the bell. She thought she'd save unveiling the dress until they got to the restaurant. She opened the door and—

John looked at Catherine, from her blonde hair to the red shoes. High heels. Spike heels. Sexy heels. He was sure that what was under her coat thing was even sexier than the shoes. "Are you ready?" John was wearing a suit and tie, very well cut and probably expensive. She didn't know men's clothes, but it could easily have been Savile Row or Armani.

"I'm ready." She smiled at him and locked the door behind her. Down the walk to the car. Rodney stepped out, his suit very similar to John's. "Dr. McKay," she greeted him. He held out his hands.

"Dr. Schaeffer. Catherine?" he asked

"Rodney," she nodded, and leaned in to kiss him on the cheek. Rodney noticed her perfume. It didn't precede her, it floated with her, light and subtle. He stood aside to allow her to get in the front seat.

"Rodney, you're taller. Shouldn't you sit up front?" she asked him.

"No, you sit up front. I'll call shotgun later," he laughed.

He held her hand and she got in the car. As John walked past him to get into the driver's seat, Rodney asked, "What's under the coat?"

"Don't know. But did you see the shoes?"

"No."

"Red. Spike heels. Sometimes referred to as 'fuck me' shoes."

"Fuck me shoes?"

"Jesus, Rodney. You're supposed to be a genius. Think about it," John laughed, but Rodney was still puzzled. "Okay. 'You look at my legs in these shoes and want to fuck me.'"

"Ah," Rodney brightened. "Fuck me shoes."

Rodney had made reservations at one of the city's nicest restaurants. It was located at the top of the tallest building, with 360-degree views of the area. Close to the university, it often played host to special university events and fund raisers. It also hosted the Town and Gown Club, of which Rodney was a member. Not by choice—the physics department chair had basically filled out the form and made Rodney sign a check every year. John pulled up to the valet parking entrance. Rodney helped her out of the car, and John took care of the valet. "We have concert tickets for eight, so park it close."

"Did Dr. Morris make you join, Rodney?" Catherine asked as she looked up at the building.

"How did you know?" Rodney laughed, and moved her hand to the crook of his arm, holding it there.

"His English counterpart has been working on me since I got here. Maybe you just need to run faster next year," her smile had an impish quality to it.

John took her other hand, and they walked in.

There were other people waiting for the elevator so the three were quiet. The restaurant operated a coat check in winter, and both men waited expectantly for Catherine to take off her cloak. At the sight of the red dress, both men just stared. Catherine blushed gently. "Thank you," she said shyly. Well, at least something was going her way.

The hostess came to escort them to their table, and their dinner proceeded without further remark. Rodney and John were charming dinner companions, and the three enjoyed each other's company. Catherine could tell John had heard all Rodney's stories more times than he'd care to admit, but Catherine enjoyed them. When he was talking about physics, Rodney was animated and involved. He did listen to other people, but she could tell he wasn't very patient and not as good at reading complex emotions.

Catherine excused herself after dessert, leaving the two men at the table. "Well?" John asked Rodney.

"Well what?"

"What do you think, Rodney?"

"I think that red dress belongs in a puddle on the floor," he smirked.

"Do you like her?" John enunciated each word clearly and slowly, exaggerating the sentence as though he was explaining something to a small child.

"Yes, John, I like her," Rodney mirrored John's speech. He knew that was what John had been asking all along, but for some reason he'd been reluctant to say it.

"Enough to—" John cut off as Catherine came back. John excused himself, leaving Catherine alone with Rodney.

She moved her chair closer to Rodney and sat down. "You're lucky to have John in your life," she said.

Of all the things she could have said, Rodney wasn't expecting that. "You really do know about us, don't you?" Rodney sat back in his chair.

"Yes, Rodney. You and John are lovers. He told me you've been together for a long time. That's rare, and it's special," she sat back in her chair and crossed her legs. Rodney could see them next to him, and they were lovely. "And you did it all without a commitment ceremony or wedding," she laughed.

"How did you know? Did John tell you that?"

"No. You two just don't seem like the type."

"What type do we seem like?"

John came up behind them. "We need to go," he smiled, putting a hand on Rodney's shoulder and holding out a hand for Catherine. She loved his courtly manners.

"I'll meet you two at the car," Rodney excused himself.

"That way I have to pay the check," John laughed.

"You know I don't expect you to always pay for me, John."

"Catherine. We've had this conversation. I asked you, I buy. You ask me out, and I'll let you buy. Maybe."

"Old habits are hard to break?"

Something like that," he smiled down at her, and the heat just spread through her body and pooled in between her legs.

"You shouldn't look at me like that, John," she murmured softly. There were other people waiting by the elevator with them.

"Like what?" he whispered back.

"Like you're planning my seduction."

"Maybe I am."

"And what about Rodney?"

"What about me?"

Before John could say anything, Catherine put in, "What about Rodney getting here before the elevator?"

"Here I am," he replied, not doubting for a minute that's what she'd asked John. And being wrong.

The concert was wonderful. They had front row dress circle seats, and they seemed to be close enough to touch the singers. Rodney actually enjoyed it—the musicians were highly skilled and didn't make any mistakes that he heard. John let the music slide by him, taking more of an interest in Catherine's and Rodney's reactions to it. At the intermission, the two chatted knowledgeably about other performances they'd heard and music they liked. John watched, his arousal increasing and wondering exactly which one was responsible for it. Was it both of them?

When the show was over, Catherine and Rodney waited for John to bring around the car. "Rodney..." she started, as Rodney said, "Catherine..." at the same time.

"You first, Rodney."

"Catherine, I enjoyed spending time with you tonight."

"I've had a lovely time myself," she smiled, and then turned serious. "Rodney, I don't— John and I— Neither of us want to hurt you. I know I shouldn't have slept with John. He's with you. But I just didn't have the willpower to resist. I'm sorry."

"Catherine, it's okay. I'm okay with it. Really. Actually, when we were first lovers, I couldn't help it, either. He's kind of irresistible, isn't he?"

"He is. But I don't think we should tell him, do you?"

"Definitely not. He doesn't need his head to get any bigger."

John drove up, and Rodney helped Catherine into the front seat. "Rodney, I thought you were going to claim shotgun this time."

"I'm in the mood to be chauffeured," he laughed. They talked about things on the university campus until they arrived at Catherine's house. She turned to say goodnight to Rodney, and John came around to open her door.

"Thank you for a lovely evening, Rodney."

He leaned into the front seat. "Good night, Catherine." He kissed her lightly, and enjoyed her smiling at him.

John opened the door and helped her out. He walked her up the path, holding her hand, and waited for her to unlock the door and turn on the light. "Good night, Catherine." She tilted up her face for his kiss, and he started by brushing her lips lightly, then deepening the kiss as she responded. He broke off. He wouldn't be coming in with Rodney in the car.

"Good night, John."

"Do you want me to come in and check on things?"

"No, this is a safe neighborhood. I'll be fine."

"Go up to your bedroom and turn on the light. We'll wait."

She walked in the house and closed the door, leaning on it for a moment, then locking it. She wanted him. Badly. And now she wanted Rodney, just as badly. She took off her cloak and hung it in the closet, putting her purse on the hall table. She climbed the stairs, and went into her bedroom, kicking off her shoes. Her feet hurt. She moved to turn on the light, and someone grabbed her. She screamed, then his hand was over her mouth and he was pulling her toward the bed.  
\-------------------  
John wasn't sure he heard a scream. He just knew he heard something. He ran for the car, and threw open the front passenger door. "I heard a scream, Rodney, let's go." He grabbed the gun he always carried in the glove box and was right behind Rodney running up the walk. He broke the glass in the door and unlocked it and ran upstairs, Rodney behind him now, flipping on the lights.

A man in dark clothes was holding a struggling Catherine, trying to pull her to the bed. She wasn't going easy, he could see that. "Let her go," John yelled, pointing his gun at the man's head.

Rodney hadn't come in the room—he'd stayed out in the hall, covering John's back. Damn, he thought. Five years out, and he still missed wearing a sidearm. The other doors off the hall were open, and he checked each room for another intruder. After checking the last room, he dialed 911 on his cell phone.  
\------------------  
Catherine had been sure John couldn't have heard her. She'd tried to scream again, but the man had put his arm around her neck, and his hand over her mouth. "Don't try that again, bitch." She could barely breathe, much less speak. She tried to get away and get some leverage so she could fight back, but he knocked her head against the door jamb to get her to stop struggling. "You like it rough, do you? Well, I'll give it to you rough, then." In spite of that, she wasn't going to give up without a fight, whether or not that was a wise decision. But then she heard the glass break and she knew she only needed to hold on for a few minutes. John came in, gun drawn. The man dropped her, and held up his hands. Something about John's posture, and the look in his eyes had stopped him. Catherine knew if he made a move, John would drop him. She flattened out on the floor, trying to stay out of the way. The floor was the best place to be in a gunfight.

"Put your hands on your head and get on the floor. Catherine..."

"Moving."

"Do you have anything we can tie him up with?"

"Pantyhose?"

John nodded, not taking his eyes off the man. He heard a siren outside. Backup. He knew Rodney would have cleared the upstairs, and had probably moved to the first floor. They'd get the police in here, and that would be it. Catherine was tying the man's hands, and she looked like she knew what she was doing. Her hair had come down, messy now, and a long braid fell down her back.

The police moved into the room, patrolmen, weapons drawn, with Rodney behind them. Shortly thereafter, the detectives arrived, and John, Rodney and Catherine were moved to the living room to give their statements. The intruder was marched down the stairs, and Catherine caught a glimpse of a youngish man with dirty blonde hair and dead eyes. He'd said nothing to anyone but Catherine, and still kept quiet, choosing to glare at them instead.

"Ma'am, do you have someplace you can stay tonight?"

"She'll stay at my house," John broke in before she could say anything. "Can we get upstairs and get her some clothes?"

"It's a crime scene, that's not a good idea."

"Okay then, are we done?"

"Yes, Mr. ... Sheppard," the detective queried John's name, "We're done with you three for now. We'll need you to come down to the station to sign official statements tomorrow." He handed John a card. "Call first, and ask for Detective Johnson. I'll be off and he'll be handling this then."

"Catherine," John stood and held out his hand. She stood, wobbled a bit, and Rodney stood after her. Both men were making sure she was steady. Catherine stopped to get her coat and purse. She turned to the detective.

"Excuse me, Detective," she started. "May I take my coat?"

"I'd rather you leave it."

Rodney took off his suit jacket before John could move and draped it around Catherine's shoulders. He acknowledged her grateful smile. They walked silently to the car, John noticing Catherine's death grip on his hand.

"I'll turn the heat up."

"I'll sit in the back with Catherine, John," Rodney took her other hand, and she released John's. He flexed his fingers discreetly. So far, she hadn't lost her composure, but he knew she'd need a release soon.

Rodney helped Catherine into the back seat, and got in with her. He put his arms around her and pulled her close. She cuddled up next to him, and he could smell her perfume again. She was shivering a bit, and she held his jacket tightly around herself.

"Cath, are you okay?" John asked from the front seat, looking in the rear view mirror.

"I'll be fine, John," she replied, her voice a bit husky. "Do you have any water in the car?"

"Rodney, is there a bottle in the pocket behind my seat?"

Catherine reached instead and pulled out a bottle. She unscrewed the cap and took a couple of sips. "I haven't talked so much in ages," she said.

"You must do short lectures, then," Rodney laughed.

"I try to not lecture at all. Some instruction at the beginning, and then I prefer student-led discussion. They won't know how I'll critique their papers if they don't learn how to critique others' works. Different subjects, Rodney."

"Yes, you have the marshmallow classes. All fluff and no substance."

"And if it weren't for fluffy little me, you wouldn't be able to read most of the papers you assign. Lord knows they don't learn anything in high school these days."

"That's true. It takes weeks just to get them to think on their own and not parrot back what you've said in lectures. Much less write a coherent sentence."

John was heartened that they were now commiserating on the overall poor preparation shown by high school students. It meant Catherine was relaxing and might be able to get through this without too much post-traumatic stress. He'd been held prisoner before, with people (loosely speaking) who wanted to harm him, and he knew the mental costs involved. That at least was something he and Rodney could help her through.


	4. Chapter 4

John opened the garage door and pulled in. Catherine and Rodney were still half commiserating about their students' performance defects, but they'd started bickering about the relative merits of their subjects. It was kind of fun to listen to---as long as they didn't drag him into it.

"Cath, we don't have a guest room. This is a two-bedroom condo, and Rodney has the second bedroom for his office." John opened the door from the garage into the condo and turned on the lights.

"I can sleep on the couch. I'm sure I've slept on worse in my day."

"Anything kinky?" Rodney asked.

"Not at Girl Scout camp."

"You were a Girl Scout?"

"Of course I was a Girl Scout. Weren't you two in scouts?"

"John was an Eagle Scout. I never bothered. Too much outdoors. You want a T-shirt to sleep in?"

"Please. This dress is nice, but it's not that comfortable."

"Well, Cath, you just go right ahead and take it off, then," John put in.

"John!" she blushed.

"What?" he replied, trying to look innocent and failing miserably. Rodney shook his head, laughing, and went upstairs to get her a T-shirt. "The bathroom is at the end of the hall on the right."

"Do you have a hairbrush? I don't have one in my purse, and I need to do something with this mess," she indicated her now messy hairdo.

"You can use mine," John walked to the base of the stairs. "Rodney, bring my brush," he yelled upstairs. A T-shirt came flying down, and John caught it. He handed it to Catherine, and she turned her back to him and pulled her hair out of the way. He unzipped her dress. "You know, you look really hot in this dress." His hands went around to her breasts, and he nuzzled her neck. Then he stopped. Now wasn't the time, so he just turned her and pulled her close. "Will you let me brush your hair?"

"Yes," she kissed him. "But I want to change first." He let her go and she headed for the bathroom.

Catherine closed the door and leaned against it for a moment. Sometimes, this was a comfort pose for her, but not now. She'd been sure that she'd never see John again after they made love—she'd figured on being a one-night stand right from the first. She'd been sure that Rodney could really not like her after she had been with John. And she would have bet her house and her last dime that she'd never ever see the inside of their place. They were too self-contained. And she'd struck out—zero for three. John had asked her out again, Rodney was actually quite sweet, and she was in their house for the night. She shrugged off the dress and the bra, then the garter belt and stockings. She pulled on the T-shirt ('I'm not deaf, I'm ignoring you,' typically Rodney) and used the toilet. She found a washcloth and washed off her makeup. She squared her shoulders and walked back out to the living room.

Rodney was back downstairs. He and John were sitting on the couch, and he was holding a hairbrush. She pulled the remaining pins and fasteners out of her hair, and then undid her braid. Rodney had two glasses, and held one out to her. She sniffed. Whiskey, straight, and expensive single malt, if her nose was working correctly. She took a sip. Not bad, so she knocked it back and handed the glass to Rodney. "Carson would cry to see you do that," he said.

As she turned, she missed John give Rodney a smirk and mouth 'told you.' "Carson must be a Scot, then. They're particular about their whiskey," she said. She sat on John's knees, and he brushed her hair. He was gentle when he touched the place on her head that had impacted with the wall. When her hair was smooth again, She started to braid it.

"Carson was born near Glasgow, as a matter of fact. And how did you know that was Scotch? Why do you wear your hair up all the time?" Rodney asked. Still sitting on John's lap, she turned toward Rodney.

"Dad used to go to Edinburgh every year for this physics conference thing. I went with him most of the time. I wear my hair up because it keeps it out of the way. You get all tangled up if you sleep with it down. So Carson's a friend of yours from Glasgow."

"He'll be here next month for a conference, actually. You can meet him then," John added.

"That T-shirt looks better on you than on me," Rodney was definitely looking at her chest.

She leaned over and kissed him good night. "Good night, Rodney."

He opened his mouth, closed it, and then got up and went back upstairs, giving them an appraising look. She put her arms around John's neck and hugged him. "I haven't even said thank you."

"You don't need to do. You know that," he hugged her back.

She kissed him, much the same way she'd kissed Rodney. "Good night, John." She scooted off his lap, and he took both her hands in his. Looking into her eyes, he kissed her hands in a very old-fashioned gesture, and then went upstairs.

Rodney had also brought down a pillow and a blanket. She put the pillow at the end of the couch, shook out the blanket, and tried to go to sleep. It wasn't long and she was out.

She had no idea when she'd gone to sleep—there wasn't a clock in the living room that she could see, so she didn't know how long it had been before she woke up screaming, feeling hands tightening around her throat. She sat straight up, her heart pounding and her eyes wide with fright. Someone was coming down the stairs. Rodney? She'd expected John.

"Rodney?"

"Yeah, it's me. John has an early flight tomorrow, so I told him I'd come down."

"I'm sorry. I screamed, didn't I?"

"Yeah. Kind of loud, too. Come on."

"What?"

"Come get in bed with us. I think we'll all feel better." He held out his hand, and she took it, a bit reluctantly. "When's your first class, Cath?"

"I have to proctor a final at ten."

"It's two now. We can still get some sleep. Now, come on. I'm cold." Still holding his hand, she followed him up the stairs. She crawled in the bed next to John, Rodney snuggled up behind her, and they went back to sleep.  
\---------------  
Catherine woke up feeling warm and fuzzy. What time was it? She remembered sleeping in bed with Rodney and John last night, but only felt one man in the bed with her now. Spooned right up against her back, warm and hard in all the right places. And aroused! The arm wasn't John's, so this was Rodney. She could see the clock on the bedside table now—not quite seven. Not paying too much attention, she stretched, rubbing against Rodney's erection with her bottom.

Rodney and John didn't sleep close together much anymore. He'd read somewhere that was a sign they were comfortable in their relationship. Yeah, that was true. So, it was a long time since he'd woken up spooned against someone, and even longer since that someone was a woman. And this was a very sexy woman. Until John, Rodney wouldn't have said he was gay. Not remotely interested in men. He'd liked women—he still did, come to think of it. Rodney knew this was where John wanted her. In their bed. Catherine, with the two of them. And Rodney was getting pretty receptive to the idea.

"Cath, I'd like to make love with you," he whispered in her ear, and then nibbled her neck.

"I'd like that, too, Rodney," she turned around carefully, so that she didn't give him an elbow or knee in the wrong place.

They kissed. Rodney was also a good kisser. Slowly, he moved his hands down her chest, touching her breasts through his T-shirt. She moved her hands over him, touching his nipples, and feeling the hair on his chest. He pushed up the T-shirt and took a breast in each hand, kneading and squeezing.

"Rodney," she breathed against his mouth. "Let me up." He released her, and had a puzzled look on his face. She sat up, and took off the T-shirt. "I just wanted that off," and she leaned down to kiss him again. She was wearing tiny red panties—Rodney was sure they went specially with her red dress.

Now that her breasts were uncovered, Rodney looked at them hungrily. He took each one in his mouth, sucking, and twirling his tongue around the nipples. She tilted her head back and thrust her chest up toward him, enjoying the sensations. Catherine threaded her fingers through his hair, caressing his head as he caressed her breasts.

Rodney would have liked to spend all day in bed with Catherine, but they both had finals to proctor today. He moved his hand between them, and found her clitoris. "How do you like it, Cath?"

"Slow circles," and she gasped as he started making circles with his index finger. She opened her legs, inviting him in. Soon, he could feel her vibrating and jerking beneath his hand. He slid a finger down to see if she was ready, and she was wet and slick.

"Cath, do we need a condom?" he asked her.

"Yes," she breathed out. "Please, Rodney. I need you."

He reached into the drawer of the night table and pulled out a strip of foil packets. He tore one off, opened it, and rolled it on as quickly as he could. His hand returned to her clit, and his lips to her mouth. He brought her back up, and entered her, stopping to enjoy the feel of her around him. It was different from fucking John, but good, hot and tight. He moved inside her, back and forth, remembering that he could thrust harder in a woman without hurting her, and he went deep. His penis touched her cervix, and she came with a moan. Her muscles pulsed around him as he continued to thrust to his own release.  
\-----------------------  
Rodney came out of the bathroom to find Catherine sitting in the middle of the bed, naked, talking on her cell phone. "So you're saying I can't get in until tomorrow?" Pause. "Yes, I understand it's still a crime scene, but it's also my home. I'd like to have my clothes, at least." Pause. "But couldn't someone from the department supervise me while I'm there?" Pause. "Okay. Yes, I understand. Now, what about my front door?" Pause. "Oh, he did? Well, please thank him for me. It's a bit cold to have that open right now." Pause. "Yes, I'll be in my office later this morning, but I'm just not going to be able to make it into the station today. It's finals week." Pause. "For a professor, finals week is very busy. I'll try tomorrow, I only have one test to proctor." Pause. "Yes, I understand. I just can't make it today." Pause. "Yes, Detective. Thanks for your time." She hung up the phone.

While talking on the phone, she had watched Rodney come out of the bathroom and pull on a pair of boxers from his drawer. He turned and leaned against the dresser. He thought she looked a little lost, sitting there, looking at him. She couldn't get in her house today, the only clothes she had were grossly inappropriate for her to wear to work, and it was finals week. "Catherine, there's a store just down the street. Write down your sizes for me and tell me what you want, and I'll go get it for you while you take a shower."

"What?" she looked up at him. Yes, that look had definitely been 'lost.' "Oh, Rodney, that's okay. You don't have to do that."

"I know I don't have to," he walked over to the bed and held out a hand. "I want to." She took his hand and he pulled her to him, hugging her tightly. "Cath, I think we're friends now, don't you?" She nodded, blushing a little. "Friends help each other. You're going to stay here until this thing is sorted out. He could make bail, or have some freaky friends, and I just don't feel right leaving you alone. Besides," he smiled at her, "I want to make love to you again."

"You do?" she smiled back at him, and then a tear slid out of her eyes. "Oh, Rodney," she just started crying.

Shit. He'd never been able to deal with this. Women crying. Well, he'd done this, too, and John had just held him while he cried, and John had done it, and he'd just held John, so he decided to do the same with her. He sat on the bed and pulled her onto his lap. She cuddled up into him, and cried herself out. It didn't take her long, only about ten minutes, and she was winding down.

"Rodney," she sniffled. "You are so sweet. It's so easy to see why John loves you. I'm about half in love with you myself," she laughed, and wiped her eyes on a corner of the sheet.

"Only half?" he laughed. "I must be losing my touch. Come on now," he moved her off his lap, and stood up. "You get in the shower, and I'll run get you something to wear." He watched her pad naked to the bathroom. He quickly pulled on jeans and a sweatshirt, then pulled on socks and his shoes. He found a pad of paper and a pen, and went into the bathroom. She was in the shower, and the mirrors were fogging up.

"Cath?" he called. "I need your sizes."

"Shirt, skirt and pants, sixes. Or medium. Look for a store brand bra—those fit me well, 34 DD." John was right about that, Rodney thought, smiling. Nice. "Panties, I wear a size four. Look for Hanes or store brand. Pantyhose, size small, average length. You can get me some store brand jeans, regular length, straight cut or tapers. Shoes, sevens."

"Got it. I'll be right back." Rodney walked out of the bedroom, grabbed his jacket and keys, and headed for the store.

The first thing he did was grab a cart. He headed for the women's clothing department and corralled the first clerk he found. "You," he snapped his fingers. "You work in the women's department?"

"Yes, I do," she was an older woman, dressed casually but stylishly, with a store smock. "May I help you, sir?"

"Someone broke into my girlfriend's house last night, and she needs clothes for a couple of days. I have a list. She has to be at work in an hour and a half, and I have no idea what I'm buying."

"Sir, I'm so sorry. That's terrible. Did they catch him?" she looked at the list and back up at Rodney. "What does she look like?"

"They did. She's blonde. Gorgeous," he smiled at—it said 'Sally' on the name tag. "She's a professor at the university, so she needs something to wear to work and something to wear after work at home. I want her to look nice."

"Okay, let's start with the undies," she watched Rodney pale. "I'll get those," she laughed. "You have a look at those racks over there. They'll have something for her to wear to work."

"Sally, I'm very visually oriented . . . "

"Sexy undies. Got it," she smiled.

Twenty-three minutes later (he timed it), Rodney was through the checkout and putting the sacks in the car. He headed home, and took the sacks in the house. Catherine was in the kitchen, wrapped in a towel, watching the coffee drip. Rodney put the sacks on the kitchen table, and then came up behind her. He kissed the back of her neck, and she turned around. He took her mouth, and they kissed long enough for both of them to be aroused from it. "I got your clothes," he said.

"Thank you," she smiled at him. "Too bad I have to put them on."

"Yeah. But you made coffee. That makes up for a lot."

"We should go change for work."

"You grab your clothes, I'll bring two cups of coffee."

Rodney changed into khakis and a sports jacket. He'd bought her things she would have chosen herself—except for the underwear. These were definitely eye candy undies, and he watched her put them on, smiling wickedly, imagining himself taking them off her tonight.

When he dropped her off at the English building, he asked her when he should pick her up. "Is four-thirty okay?"

"Yeah, I'll be done at four," he said. "See ya, Cath."

She watched him drive off. She'd half expected Rodney to drive a sports car, too, but he had a Volvo sedan. Go figure. A hand on her shoulder made her jump. It was Annie.

"Was that Dr. McKay?" Annie looked like a little girl on Christmas morning, about to open a special present.

"If I tell you this, will it be in the campus paper tomorrow?"

"Not if you don't want it to be."

"Then let's go to my office and I'll tell you all about it while we get the tests."  
\--------------------  
"Yo, Ritter, my man, whassup?" Detective Johnson entered the squad room.

Ritter rolled his eyes. Johnson liked to aggravate him, he knew that, and the rap was just part of that. "We had a break-in at a university professor's house last night. B & E and attempted rape. Some of her friends caught the guy."

"So?"

"So, apparently the Chief ADA Lawrence saw her name on the log this morning, and she's apparently a friend of his. She's a professor, but she's also a lawyer. And she is seriously hot."

"Seriously hot? Is that why she's a friend of his?" Johnson looked more enthusiastic. "What do we have on him?"

"Other than that he jimmied the back door, and was caught by a witness restraining the vic in the vic's bedroom, nothing. He lawyered up and hasn't said a word. No prior record and no hits on his prints. They're going to run his DNA and see if that pops, but that'll take a couple of weeks."  
\-----------------  
He sat in the cell, listening to the noises around him. He'd given his name and address, and then asked for a lawyer. They'd had to stop questioning him, and he'd been sitting in this cell since then. Arraignment was tomorrow, and he'd meet his public defender then. The others. They didn't know about them. They couldn't know. They only whispered to him. Only him. . .  
-


	5. Chapter 5

"When does John get home?" They were in the kitchen making dinner together.

"He won't be home until Tuesday. This is his week on the long run. He has a leg and a layover every night, and is off Sunday, but he's in London, and he lays over. He does this run once a month. He'll call tonight when he's at the hotel."

"He rotates that run, then?"

"Yeah. Normally, he runs to New York or Los Angeles."

"How does he feel about being a commercial pilot? Did he fly fighter jets?"

"Did he tell you that?"

"No. I guessed. But he did admit to being Air Force."

"You guessed?"

"Flight jacket, sports car, overall attitude. It just screams fighter pilot to me."

"You really do read people, don't you?"

"The way you read equations. It's one reason why I'm so self-contained. People get so noisy in my head, it's hard to tune them out. Writing is a solitary occupation, but you have to read people to write fiction well. You're really restful to me, though."

"I'm what?"

"Restful. You don't radiate a lot of conflicting emotions and messages. You're really focused. John's the same way—it's confidence, life experiences, a lot of different things. And that's a compliment, by the way."

"So what type are we?"

"What type?"

"At the restaurant last night, you said we didn't seem like the type to have a commitment ceremony or a wedding. What type are we? You stopped when John came back."

Catherine paused. "It's part of that restful thing. You're secure." She looked at Rodney appraisingly and continued. "You've both said something about going through a lot together. It shows. When you came into my house last night, you worked as a team, as though you'd done something like it enough times before that it was second nature. John had a gun, and you were looking for one. Not like John Wayne, either—oh, god, I can't believe I said that!" she laughed. "But like you knew what you were doing. Matter of fact. You don't need to impress anyone, you don't care what anyone thinks, and you're quite happy that way. Does that make any sense?"

"It does. I've never had the words to say that, but it's a good description."

"And you could tell me about all those adventures, but then you'd have to kill me, right?"

"Something like that," he laughed. "Come here." His voice beckoned seductively. Catherine walked over to him, and turned her face up for his kiss. They kissed each other caringly, deeply, becoming aroused standing at the kitchen counter. "Dinner?" he nibbled her ear and nuzzled her neck.

"Turn off the stove. I'd rather have you," she moaned as his fingers teased her breasts through her shirt. Her nipples hardened and she was getting wet for him. Rodney stopped kissing her to look in her eyes, and they left a trail of clothes on the stairs on their way to the bedroom.

They had all night, and Rodney fully intended to take his time. Naked, they tumbled onto the bed, kissing and touching. Catherine ran her tongue along Rodney's jawline, and nibbled her way down his neck and chest. She pushed him back onto the pillows and took his cock into her mouth. Rodney gasped as she started sucking, running her tongue around the head of his penis. She took him deep, and he moaned. That was amazing! So much for taking his time—another few minutes of this, and he was going to come. "Cath!" he called out her name, and she stopped. She reached for the night table and pulled out a condom. Rodney reached for it, but she held it away from him. "I know how," she smiled.

"Cath, don't leave me hangin' here," he begged. She opened the packet and rolled on the condom, then straddled Rodney's hips, taking him inside her with a gasp of pleasure. She started moving back and forth, and Rodney moved his fingers to her clit, stroking her in slow circles. When she started to come, he pulled her down to his chest and thrust up into her, hard, coming himself.

They came down that way, Catherine lying on top of Rodney, his penis still inside her, breathing heavily. "You give great head, Cath," Rodney murmured.

"Thank you. I like doing it," she admitted.

"I'm hungry," Rodney grabbed her bottom, and she pushed herself up. He looked at her, and imagined John behind her, all three of them naked and sweaty, and he bucked inside her.

"I miss John, too, Rodney," she said.

"Are you reading my fucking mind?" he looked at her, amazed that she did know exactly what he was thinking. "How could you know? How could you know it was John and not you?"

"The look on your face. Were you thinking about all three of us together?"

Rodney moved to sit up. She moved off him and sat next to him. "You are fucking scary, Catherine. That's exactly what I was thinking of."

"Do you think John would . . . ?"

"You want to have sex with both of us at the same time?"

Her look was sheepish, and she blushed. "Yeah."

"I think John's wanted that since he met you."

"What about you?"

"Fuck yeah." He kissed her, pushing her back onto the bed, showing her how much he wanted her. A few minutes later, his stomach growled.

"Let's go finish dinner," she laughed.  
\-------------------  
"Tell me about your family, Rodney."

"Not much to tell," he took a bite of his salad. "My parents are dead. We didn't get along. They didn't want kids. I have a sister, Jeannie. She's married—Caleb's an English teacher, actually—and they have two kids. Madison is fourteen and Bradley is eight.

"Where do they live? Do you see them often?"

"They live in Canada, so we see them once or twice a year. How about you?"

"My mom is dead. My dad was a physics professor. Professor Emeritus George Schaeffer, Washington State."

"I've heard of him. Keep going."

"Dad has nine kids, so I have eight brothers and sisters. Five were with my mom, and the other four with his mistress. Four brothers and four sisters, and I am smack in the middle."

"You have EIGHT brothers and sisters?"

"I do."

"One big close, happy family, then? All huggy and arguing and shit?"

"No, just shit. We don't get along."

"None of you?"

"No, it's probably more accurate to say they don't get along with me."

"Why?"

"Mom and Dad didn't really like each other, but they slept together and Mom got pregnant in her last semester of law school. Back in the day, you got knocked up, you got married. At least in her social class, you did. She had to give up her judicial clerkship, and she resented Dad after that. They still managed to have five kids, four of whom look like her. I look like Dad—his younger sister that Mom hated, at any rate. So, I never did anything right."

"Everything's your fault. Whether it's that they don't have a good job or a nice house, or dinner's burnt. It's all your fault."

"You, too?"

"Yeah."

"Dad got tired of it pretty quickly and found someone willing to let him cry on her shoulder. They had four kids together, two before me and two after me, and they all look like her. Of course, two of my brothers are physicists and two sisters are science teachers, so that apple didn't fall too far from the tree."

"Who are your brothers?"

"Randy Schaeffer and Lewis Schaeffer."

"Lewis is the string theory guy. I've heard of both of them."

"The other two brothers are lawyers and the other two sisters are psychologists. I have seventeen nieces and nephews."

"That's quite a clan. How do you keep them all straight?"

"I don't even try. I just send out the gift cards at Christmas and I'm good for another year."

"You buy them all something?"

"Not anymore. I send gift cards. To Toys 'R' Us for the little ones and iTunes for the older ones. That way, I've done my familial duty and they don't have to be bothered to return what I bought. Do you get along with your sister?"

"We do now. There was a period of time before I met John that we didn't. She was at university and got pregnant. She dropped out to have a baby, and we didn't speak for four years. We made up over something at work, and she's finally finished her Ph.D. She's pretty brilliant."

"Of course she is. She's your sister, after all," Catherine smiled. "It's nice that you get along."

"You don't get along with any of your family?"

"Well, Dad tolerates me. Surprisingly enough, he settled some money from his patents on me some years ago. After Mom died. That's how I financed grad school. That, and working as a cocktail waitress. I have one half sister who'll hang out with me when she comes through. She was just here after Thanksgiving. There's some psych conference here every year that she attends. What are you doing for Christmas?"

"John and I have reservations at a resort in Jamaica. We usually go somewhere warm near the ocean for Christmas. What are you doing?"

Catherine thought fast. Jamaica was someplace she sensed she wasn't invited. "I've had a trip with a friend planned for a while now. Mexico."

"Where?"

"Oh, we just bum around for a while. No place in particular. I like Oaxaca. The west coast. Maybe just Baja this year. I'm not sure it's too safe anywhere else."

"Why don't you practice?" Rodney threw her a curve ball, and she wasn't expecting it.

"Why don't I what?"

"Practice. Law. I checked your CV. University of Washington, Phi Beta Kappa. Then, Columbia Law, Magna Cum Laude, Law Review. You don't even have the diploma in your office with your others. Then you went to Cornell and their writing program for your doctorate."

"Mom went to Columbia Law. She dangled something I thought I wanted and I took the bait. After she died, I found out she'd just been lying, and I decided to live my own life. That's writing. So I went back to school and here I am. You went to Northeastern."

"Boston. I love it. It's a good program." Rodney started in on his college days, and Catherine was content to listen. Fortunately, he had no idea how much he'd dredged up.

After dinner, John called, and he and Rodney talked for a few minutes while she cleaned off the table and loaded the dishwasher. "Catherine? John wants to talk to you." Rodney handed her the phone.

"Hello, John. How are you?"

"I'm fine. I'm more interested in how you're doing. Is Rodney taking care of you?"

"Yes, he's very sweet. He went out and bought me clothes this morning," she smiled at Rodney. "I'm supposed to get back in my house tomorrow."

"Cath, I want you to stay with Rodney until I get home."

"John, that's not necessary. I—"

"Cath. Please. This is really important to me. I need to know that you're safe. Promise me you'll stay with Rodney."

"John," she started.

"Cath," his voice was very seductive, "Please stay with Rodney. I don't want to worry about you. Promise me."

She felt herself getting wet. And he knew exactly what that voice did when he used it. She was smiling when she said, "Okay, John. I'll stay with Rodney. I promise."

"Thank you. I miss you. I have some plans for you when I get home," his voice practically purred now.

"You give phone sex, too, Flyboy?" she joked.

"I give great phone sex. You want some?"

"Yes, but right now, I have finals to grade."

"I hate this time of year," John sighed. "Put Rodney back on."

She handed the phone to Rodney. "Rodney, I'm going to ask you some yes or no questions. Did you hear our conversation?"

"Yes."

"You okay with her staying for a while?"

"Definitely yes."

"You get some?"

"Yes, I did."

"You think she'll be up for it?"

"I'm guessing yes, but there might be a problem."

"I'll call you tomorrow in your office."

"Yes, I'll have it then."  
\-----------------------------  
"So, Rodney, what's the problem?"

"John, what are you planning with this? You've been with her, I've been with her, and she seems receptive to all of us together. Is that all you're looking for, then?"

"Umm . . . "

"If that's the plan, I'm out."

"Why?"

"I like her. Really like her. She's not some slut off the street that we pay to leave. I know she was willing to just let you go, but if we stay together much longer, it's going to be hard for her."

"Hard for all of us, you mean."

"Yeah. All of us." He felt sick at the thought of her leaving.

"What would you think about her moving in?"

"I'll wait until you come home and we can ask her together."  
\---------------------

"Your honor, my client has a clean record with no prior convictions. He has a job and owns a home. He isn't a flight risk, and we will show at trial that this was a temporary aberration and he is not a danger to the community," his public defender addressed the judge, asking for bail.

"Mr. Lawrence?" the judge addressed the prosecutor.

"Your honor, the defendant was found in a woman's bedroom by an eyewitness, attempting to assault her. She's an upstanding member of the community, a professor at the university, and this man broke into her house with the intention to assault her. We believe he presents a significant threat to the public. Sex offenders are repeat offenders. He may have a clean record, but it's probably only because we haven't caught him yet."

"Bail in this case is set at $500,000," the judge banged his gavel. "Next case."

\---------------

That prosecutor was just guessing. Lawrence. Chief ADA Lawrence. He didn't know about the others. The blonde women who whispered to him. Only to him. . .


	6. Chapter 6

Catherine sat in her office, waiting for Rodney. Her head was in her hands, and she was rubbing her forehead. Such a headache! One more day of this, and she'd be done. She had her list, and she'd started ticking off some of the things in addition to grading finals. First, she'd called the realtor who sold her the house, and made arrangements to list it with her for sale. Catherine knew she'd never feel safe in it again, and had asked the woman to find her something else. She'd asked to have her statement brought to her office to sign, since she didn't have access to her car, and the detectives had told her she could get into her house tomorrow. She'd called a moving company and set up an appointment for packing and storing her things until a new house came along. She had some apartment recommendations from the realtor, and had an appointment to see them starting next week.

"You look like hell," Rodney's voice cut across her reverie. "Tough day?"

"Two finals. I've graded most of what I had yesterday, but now I've just got a ton more. I'm going to run out of red ink."

"You've been on the phone most of the day, too. I've tried to call you several times."

"Realtor, police, movers, ugh."

"Realtor and movers?"

She grabbed her coat and briefcase. "I'm going to sell my house. I can't live there anymore. She's bringing the listing papers by tomorrow." They were walking down the stairs.

"Are you sure you want to do that? That's a big decision to make overnight. Shouldn't you think about it for a few days?"

"I know I can't stay there. I'll always see him in my bedroom, and I'll never sleep. John was there, and I saw him until this happened. That was a good memory. But that's gone, that guy took it away. Rodney, I bought the house as an investment, mainly. I managed to get it well under market value and I can turn a good profit on it. I've got a line on a couple of apartments and I'll just rent until I can find something I like."

"I don't like that, Cath. I don't like the idea of you in a strange place. John wants you to stay with us, and so do I."

Rodney opened the car door for her, and went around to the driver's side. He pulled out into traffic, and started for home.

"Rodney, I need to ask you something," Catherine looked out her window.

"What, Cath?"

She looked straight ahead, deliberately not looking at Rodney who was trying to keep looking at her and drive at the same time. "I want you to tell me the truth. Please. Is this some kind of game with you and John? Is this something I don't understand? I mean, all of us making love, sleeping together, me staying with you. Is it some kind of sex game? You get what you want, and then when the novelty wears off, you drop me. If I stay with you much longer, it's going to... really be hard . . . to leave when you want me to go."

"Oh, no, Catherine, it's not like that." Rodney was in line at a stoplight, and he took her hand. "John was very taken with you. I've never seen him like this. We talked about you, and he wanted me to get to know you. Not just for the sex. And now I'm just as caught up as he is. I want you—we want you. Not just for sex, but as part of us. Damn it." The traffic moved, and Rodney let her hand go. "You have plans, we have plans, and this time of year is so crazy. It seems like it's moving so fast, but I'm afraid you'll slip away. Please, Cath, you have to stay. I have a feeling about this. That's stupid, but these feelings I have usually pan out if someone else has them, too. And John does. We need you. Please stay."

Catherine finally looked at Rodney. All her life, she'd felt like she was kept around on sufferance. Her mother never liked her. That was never more obvious than after she died. Her father used her as cover, or as a factotum. She was like him, so he drug her along to conferences, seminars, his other family's house. Simon wanted her body. She was his trophy, his prize, and she knew that. Through college, law school, grad school, she'd never felt she belonged. And now, on a whim, she'd gone to bed with a gay man—and his partner—and they wanted her to stay with them. "Rodney, that means so much to me." She laid her hand on his thigh and squeezed. "I'd love to stay with you. Thank you."  
\------------------------  
Their finals were graded, their grades were turned in, and Christmas break had officially begun for Rodney and Catherine. It was Tuesday afternoon, and they were sitting—lounging with Rodney's head in Catherine's lap—in front of the television watching some sci-fi rerun. Apparently they'd both seen it so many times they knew the dialogue and were reciting it right along. Catherine had picked up some clothes from her house, and they were both wearing disreputable sweat pants and T-shirts. John stood in the doorway from the kitchen to the living room and looked at them. Four days in New York, London, Jakarta, and then back. And all he had thought about was this—coming home and finding the man he loved with the woman who fascinated him more than any other since he'd met Teyla.

"Hi, kids," John said, moving into the room. "I think some boys and girls have been watching too much TV."

"Sit up, Rodney," she patted the spot on the couch Rodney had just vacated. "John, we missed you. Come watch Star Trek with us." John dropped his coat on the floor, took off his jacket and shoes, and joined his favorite people on the couch. He was home.  
\-----------------------  
"Okay, if I'm going to stay with you, we need to talk about some things." Catherine closed the dishwasher and turned it on.

"Here it comes. The girl nagging stuff. What first: laundry, dishes, or leaving the seat up?" Rodney snarked.

Catherine rolled her eyes. "No, Rodney. There is one question I just have to have answered, and it has nothing to do with housework," she smiled, a very seductive, womanly smile. Her voice lowered, and she changed her tone to one of pure sex. "I've never had a threesome before. I have no idea how this works. Can you explain it to me?"

Rodney just stared at her, and then John started laughing.

"Right. Now that I have your attention. Something you two have never had to worry about— birth control. Unless you want kids, we need to decide what we're going to do. Suggestions?"

"I've never had a threesome, either. Rodney?" John asked. Rodney shook his head. "I guess we'll figure it out. We've used condoms so far, but anything else is pretty much on you. If you want."

"I'll make an appointment. I don't mind."

"Any other questions, Cath?" John was looking at her with that lecherous grin.

"Just one. Where do I put my clothes?"

"Shit. Can we deal with that tomorrow and just go to bed?" Rodney snarked.  
\-------------------  
"Okay. I've been thinking about this from an engineering standpoint," Rodney started.

"Rodney, I don't think it takes an engineer," John talked over him.

Catherine giggled silently at the two men. She went to the bathroom, leaving them arguing about how they'd be able to make love, all three of them satisfying each other. She washed her hands, and then took down her hair. She took off her sweats and opened the door. Yes, they were still arguing. Without looking at them, she walked—slowly—naked to the bed and climbed in. She sat, cross legged, partly under the covers (it was December and it was cold) and just watched them.

Well, that was enough of that. They'd still be arguing next week if she didn't do something. Throw something—but what? Rodney's pillow was right there, so she threw it, and hit them both. "If you're finished arguing, I'm getting cold in here."

John looked at Rodney. "Do her first?"

"Yeah. You take point."

They were stripping off their clothes, not quite racing, and looking at her. Catherine met their gazes, and she could feel her blood pounding and her pelvic muscles contracting. At pretty much the same time, they were both in bed with her. John kissed her, hungrily, and his hands were on her breasts. He pushed her into the pillows, and she felt Rodney spreading her legs. He grabbed the pillow she'd thrown at them and put it under her hips. She couldn't think for John kissing her, and then she felt Rodney's tongue on her clit. She gasped and moaned. John was nibbling his way down to her breasts, kneading one and sucking the other.

Catherine's hands were tangling in John's hair. She was trying not to pull too hard, but this was so intense! Rodney's tongue was driving her crazy. And John was finding every erogenous zone on the front of her body. When Rodney started sucking, it was too much, and she came, her body arching up to his mouth.

Rodney moved out of the way, but kept his hand on her clit, making slow circles with his index finger. He'd had Catherine all to himself for four days, four days of sex at least twice a day, and he knew her body pretty well by now. "John, I'll keep her up, get ready." John pulled a condom from the drawer and rolled it on. He moved between Catherine's legs and entered her with a groan, losing himself in her wetness. Rodney kept his finger moving on Catherine and kissed John as he started thrusting inside her. With Rodney continuing to stroke her, she didn't come down—she just came again and again. Her eyes were open and wide, and she was making soft noises. John felt her contracting around him as he thrust, and it was amazing. Rodney was really keeping her up.

Rodney stretched out his free hand out and managed to snag a condom. He held the packet with his teeth and tore it open. He got it on with one hand and found the lube. He looked at Catherine's face, and saw a tear slide from the corner of her eye. Were they hurting her? He pulled his hand out from between the two, and opened the lube. He coated his finger and slid it into John's crack. John felt Rodney touch him, and that was enough to send him over the edge, giving Catherine a harder thrust and bucking inside her. Carefully, he pulled out of her and went onto all fours, readying himself for Rodney.

Catherine couldn't seem to come down. She'd never had an orgasm like that before, and it had turned her body to Jello. She couldn't move, she couldn't speak, she could hardly focus her eyes. But when she did, she saw John's face above her, mirroring her own expressions as Rodney fucked him. She could feel Rodney's thrusts as though he were inside her, John was so close to her. Rodney came with a low moan, and collapsed on John's back.

Rodney pulled out of John slowly, relishing his body's memory of this lovemaking. The endorphins coursed through his system, shutting down most of his higher brain functions. He rolled onto his back, breathing heavily. John kissed Catherine and moved off her. He laid on his back on her other side, and grabbed for Rodney's hand.

"Cath, are you okay?" he asked.

Her voice was a hoarse croak. "Yes. God yes."

Rodney reached for the tissues and handed one to John. They cleaned themselves off and leaned up for a kiss, something they'd obviously made part of their personal ritual long ago. Rodney retrieved his pillow, and Catherine sat up so she could crawl back under the covers. She snuggled up against Rodney and fell asleep immediately.

"How come you get Catherine?" John pouted at Rodney.

"Unless we start out like this, she wakes up screaming in about an hour. You'll get your turn to have a mouthful of blonde hair. Now, go to sleep. I'm tired, Flyboy."  
\----------------  
Catherine woke at her usual six o'clock. She was naked, sandwiched between two men, and she couldn't think of a better way to wake up. Unless it was with more of the loving she'd had last night. It made her wet again just to think about it. Well, she had to get going. The movers would be at her house at eight.

She scooted out of bed, trying hard not to wake John and Rodney. She padded to the bathroom, and was brushing her hair when John walked in. Naked and unselfconscious, he was so beautiful. She stopped brushing and looked at him. "You didn't have to get up. I can take care of this by myself."

"Of course you can. But why should you when we can help you? You're not alone anymore, Cath. We're a team now." He finished using the toilet and came over to her. She put down the hairbrush and moved into his arms.

"Mmmm," she murmured. "I like this." Her head was on his shoulder and they were hugging.

"Did we hurt you last night?" John held her shoulders back and looked at her.

"No. It was really intense, but it was really good. I didn't know I could do that."

"You were crying. I was afraid we hurt you. Can I brush your hair again?" She handed him the brush and turned, smiling.

Catherine dressed quickly and headed down to the kitchen. John woke Rodney with a kiss, and got dressed himself. They went down to find the coffee ready, and Catherine automatically handed Rodney a cup.

"I didn't even have to teach her how to make coffee," Rodney told John.

"Okay, guys, tell me again why you're coming along this morning."

"We want to see your house, help you with the movers, and make sure you're safe. I still have, and Rodney always does, a bad feeling about things like this. That means we stay with you."

And they did. They brought her plants, her clothes, her computer, and some of her office materials. Most of her things would go into storage. At the end of the day, they were tired, dusty, and hungry. They drove back to the condo, and took turns showering. Rodney ordered a pizza, and they popped three beers. An hour into their movie, they were all asleep on the couch. They woke up about ten, went to bed, and slept through the night.


	7. Chapter 7

At breakfast the next morning, John started the conversation. "Rodney says you went to law school."

"Rodney! You big gossip!" She slapped his arm.

"Well, you did."

"Why do you want to know, John?"

"We have to think about the practical stuff, too. I mean, the sex is great and all," he leered and she blushed, "but you're right. We have to think about that stuff. Not just laundry and dishes. Can you set things up? The paperwork stuff?"

She put down her fork and looked at them both. She'd thought she'd be staying for a little while, and that would be it. Not this. 'The paperwork stuff' meant another level of commitment entirely. She hadn't even dared to dream about something this serious. "You're really serious about this? You really want this? You want me to live with you? Permanently?"

Rodney looked at John, and John looked at Rodney. They'd known each other for over a decade. They'd worked as closely together as two people could do. Each man had held the other's life—literally—in his hands. They were friends before they were lovers. John and Rodney knew each other so very well. Without having to say much, they had decided, and they looked at her.

"Catherine—" they spoke at once. John looked at Rodney. Rodney would speak for them.

"We want you to stay. For good. Permanently," he took her hand across the table. "I feel about you like I feel about John. If you left us, it would hurt, a lot. Please stay with us."

"Cath. We need you. Please stay."

A tear dropped to her plate, unnoticed. She sat silently for a moment, looking at them. She didn't know if she'd ever say it, but she loved them. It hit her at that moment how much she did love them. And she was pretty sure that these very self-contained men wouldn't have asked her to be part of their lives like this if they didn't love her.

"I would love to stay with you. And, yes, I can," she spoke, her voice husky. "We just need to go over what you have now, where we want to go, and do the financial disclosure stuff." Rodney let go of her hand and started eating again.

"We should get a bigger house," Rodney said through a mouthful of eggs. "I'm not sharing my office, and Cath, you'll need one. A bigger shower would be nice, then we could all three play."

"I'll ask the realtor that's selling my house. We're going to have to make some lists—do you guys make lists?" They nodded. "Okay. If you get me your papers, I'll go over them. I've got mine in that box over there, so you can look at them when you want. I think I'll skip Mexico this year and find us a house. Leave me a list of what you want and don't want, non-negotiable and 'would be nice to have but not a deal breaker,' and I'll look. I can draw up some documents and take them to a classmate of mine to prepare officially. That way there's no conflict of interest."

"That's fast."

"That's what law school trains you for, John. Cut to the chase and find the real issues. Then do what needs to be done."

"I don't like going off and leaving you alone."

"I'll be pissed if you don't go. You need this. Your relationship needs this. I'll be fine. I'll be extra careful. I promise."

"We'll call you several times a day to check in, and go over some protocols."

"You were Air Force, but were you special forces?"

John put down his fork and looked at Catherine. "No. Not exactly. But I never told you that."

"She's scary, John. We're fucking transparent to her," Rodney had another mouthful of eggs.

"That night at my house. You two moved like you'd done that a thousand times. Rodney, you weren't in the military, but you worked with them. And there's a period of time neither of you ever talk about. That makes me think special forces."

"We can't tell you what we did."

"I know that. I don't expect you to do. I just wanted to know where this comes from."

"Not special forces. Something else. But we know how to..." Rodney started.

"Take care of each other. Work as a team," John continued. "We'll go over that after breakfast."

"If I buy a gun, will you teach me how to shoot?"

John looked at Rodney. "Now, that could be scary."  
\-------------------  
Catherine and her realtor, Louise, drove up to another house. John and Rodney were in Jamaica, they'd arrived yesterday afternoon. She had their lists, and she'd gone over them with Louise. At first, Louise was put off by the idea of their 'partnership,' but the commission on the house trumped any objections she might have had to their lifestyle.

"This one is a developer's show model. Four years old—the first one he built here and never lived in. Five bedrooms, six baths, three levels. Fenced back yard, pool, hot tub, large lot. It's about twenty minutes from campus."

"Tell me about the development."

"Big name builder a few years ago. Quality stuff. After most of the houses were sold here, the developer took the profit and tried to invest it in another project. That went belly-up when the dot com bubble burst, and he finally filed for bankruptcy last year. All the other homes are sold, but he kept this one as collateral for the bad investment. This one is bigger than most of the other homes, it's like one of the custom golf course models on the other side of the development."

"What about the CC & Rs? How restrictive are they?"

"These are pretty lenient. That bill in the legislature last year removed a lot of the more restrictive provisions in this state. I don't think you'll find anything objectionable."

"Let's go look."

The house was exactly what Catherine wanted. Nice kitchen, good sized bedrooms, and a master bath with a big steam shower and a huge whirlpool tub. They could each have an office, Rodney and Catherine, and still have two guest rooms.

"Let's talk price. I'm thinking big discount here. It's been on the market for over a year, and it's in receivership. How low will they go?"

"With a shark like you in the negotiations, I'm thinking half asking price."

"Let's do it."  
\-------------------

"I talked to the bondsman. With your house as collateral, he'll front the ten percent. So, that should cover the bail," the public defender looked at his client over the bare metal conference table in the jail's meeting room. This guy really creeped him out. Most of his clients were thugs and gang members, no question about their morals and loyalties, but this guy was just creepy. He said almost nothing. The police had nothing on him—except for the eye witness, that is. And that witness was going to be tough—make that impossible—to impeach. His client wouldn't plead, so they were just waiting for the trial.

He'd bail the guy out, and that would be it for today. Thank goodness. Just another client that made him hate his job.

\--------------------

This lawyer—what a joke. Trying to act like he knew what he was doing. Public defenders were usually new, idealistic people right out of law school. This one was no different. Well, he knew the police hadn't found his cache, or this ass of a lawyer would have said something. And he'd have been charged with many more counts of rape. And murder.

\-------------------  
"John, we have a house. I'll email you the pictures. Let me know what you think. If you don't like it, I'll keep looking. And I accepted an offer on my house this morning."

"Cath, do you need any money?"

"John, did you look at any of the paperwork I showed you before you left?"

"Umm...not really."

"I'm set, thank you, John," she laughed. She had income from her father's patents. "I have the keys, and I'll take you over when you get home."

"You're being careful?"

"Yes, John. I'm being careful."

"Well, one of our friends, his name is Ronon, is going to stop by. He called us yesterday. Tall guy, long dreds. Set him up on the couch."

"John, did you get a babysitter for me?"

"Cath! How do you do that?"

"You're like an open book. Your voice changes when you're telling me a story. That's one of the things I like about you."  
\---------------------  
Catherine looked through the sidelight, and yes, it was a tall man—very tall—with very long dreds. She opened the door. "Ronon?"

"Catherine?"

"Please come in."

"Sheppard and McKay said they wanted me to stay here until they got home. Can you cook?"

"Yes, I can cook."

"Then we're set. Point me to the couch."

When Catherine went to bed, Ronon pulled out his cell phone.

"Sheppard," John answered.

"I'm here, man.

"Everything okay?"

"Yeah. Explain this to me. She's hot. Really hot. And she's with both of you?"

"Yeah. Blows my mind, too. I faxed you the description of the guy. Keep an eye out, okay?"

"Like she was my sister, man."

"Don't leave until we're home."

"Got it."

"McKay says you'd better behave like she's your sister."

"Tell him I said, 'make me,'" Ronon laughed.

"Sheppard out." John hung up, rolled over, and caressed Rodney. "Ronon's there. We can quit worrying now."

"I kind of hope the guy does try something. If he goes after her now, he's dead and we won't have to worry about it anymore."

"I still can't believe the son of a bitch made bail."  
\------------------  
"Good breakfast, Catherine. Thanks."

"Have you known John and Rodney very long?"

"Yeah."

"You worked with them, didn't you?"

"Yeah."

"You were in the military."

"Yeah."

"Not much for details?"

"Nope."

"I have two appointments today. Do you want to drive, or do you want me to drive?"

"No more questions?"

"Nope. I know when to stop. You've told me all I need to know."  
\---------------------  
When Ronon heard the garage door open, he moved into a concealed spot in the kitchen, gun drawn. The door opened, and a voice called out, "Hi, honey, we're home."

"Sheppard." Ronon holstered his gun and put out his hand. He grabbed John's arm, not his hand, and pulled him into a bear hug.

"Ronon. How were things?"

"John! Rodney! Welcome home!" Catherine came into the room.

"Hey, Cath, we brought you a present." Rodney came around John, carrying a large sack, and took Catherine's arm, steering her into the other room.

"Rodney's going to distract her while we talk.. What's up?"

"I wish all my clients were this easy. She never tried to go off the reservation," he liked using that Earth phrase, "quiet, spent most of her time on the computer. Nothing suspicious, never saw the guy. Maybe he hasn't found out where she's at yet. You want me to stick around?"

"Might be a good idea. See if you can get a line on the guy. Looks like we're going to be moving. You can help tote boxes."

"At least she can cook. That's a good enough reason as any to stay."  
\-------------------  
Rodney led Catherine to the bedroom. "I missed you," he kissed her.

"I missed you, too. Did you have a nice time?"

"Except for too much sun. Radiation. Never a good thing. John wanted to lie on the beach and ruin his skin. So we compromised and did that in the morning and spent the afternoon in bed."

"Vacation sex."

"Lots of vacation sex. Now I want some girl sex."

"Rodney, we have company."

"So?"

"So, isn't it rude to screw your girlfriend in the bedroom with company in the living room?"

"Trust me. Ronon understands. And John and I decided I got to be with you first. We missed you. He'll join us later." He kissed her again, deeply, and backed her to the bed.

Rodney was such a good kisser, and she had missed him. She missed them both. The blood was pounding between her legs, and she was getting wet, she could feel it. He pulled her hips into his, and she could feel his arousal. He rubbed back and forth against her, and she gasped. "I want you, Cath."

"Rodney," she murmured. "I really missed you."

He ran his hands up under her sweatshirt, and pulled it off. She wasn't wearing a bra, and he grabbed her breasts hungrily, kissing her again. Rodney kicked off his shoes, and moved his hands to the button of her jeans. He got them open and started sliding them down. She moved her hands to his jeans, and started unbuttoning them. He stopped kissing her long enough to pull off his shirt, and they stepped out of their pants. She was wearing some of the 'eye candy undies' he'd bought for her.

"I love those panties on you," Rodney breathed. "But I like them better off."

Catherine pulled down his boxers and stroked his penis, feeling him move in her hand. She sat down on the bed and scooted to the middle. Rodney knelt, and then moved over to her. He kissed her again, and moved his hand under her panties to her clitoris. When he started slow circles for her, she jerked and gasped. "Do we still need...?"

"Yeah. Another week," she slid off her panties.

He leaned away from her to get a condom from the drawer and slid it on. He entered her with a sigh of contentment and started thrusting. She wrapped her legs around him and moved with him, her need driving her on. Rodney went to her clit again, and a few more slow circles later, she moaned and came. He felt her contracting around him and let himself go.

Her legs were still wrapped around him, and he rolled onto his back, taking her with him. "Oh, Cath. I really missed you."

"I'm so glad you're home," she kissed him lightly.

"Do you want to see your present now?" he kissed her back.

"I thought you were my present," she looked at him seductively and tightened herself around his penis, still half hard inside her. The look he gave her—Ronon and John could just wait a little longer.  
\-------------------  
The four of them were eating dinner later, talking about John and Rodney's vacation.

"Okay, guys. Inquiring minds want to know. Who's your contact?"

"Contact?"

ADA's office, cop shop, court, what?"

"Not following here," Rodney asked.

"Two hours after he made bail, you called me to tell me Ronon was coming to babysit. I'm not stupid. You were worried about me, and that's sweet."

"How do you figure this stuff out? You are so fuckin' scary," Rodney laughed.

"I went to law school, Rodney. They actually teach a class on how to read people, but that had to be the easiest A I ever got. I'll also bet I knew before you did. The chief assistant district attorney is a friend of mine, and he called me from his cell phone out in the hall of the courthouse."

Silence. "We were just worried about you, Cath," John said.

"I know, John. You just wanted to take care of me. I"m not mad," she took his hand. "You are so sweet."

"How do you know the chief assistant DA?" Rodney asked.

"Bar association meetings. I have to have so much continuing ed to maintain my license, and I stick to the prosecutorial stuff. That and contracts, research, public interest. I'm not into defense or personal injury. And certainly not family law." She shuddered.

"You're a lawyer?" Ronon asked. "I thought you were an English teacher."

"I'm both. I just don't advertise the lawyer part. Bad family story."

"When do we go look at this house you looked at?" Rodney asked.

"Tomorrow. First thing tomorrow."

"Have you seen it, Ronon?"

"Yeah. It's a big sucker. But you're going to love the bathroom." His leer reminded Catherine very much of John's, and she smiled into her plate.  
\-------------------

After he got home, he'd spent so long in the shower that the hot water was all gone and his fingers were wrinkled. Still, he felt he could feel the stench of the jail on his skin. He burned the clothes he'd been wearing. No big deal. He'd just go buy more. Black clothes were easy to find. Now, he was driving by her house, and he saw the 'For Sale / SOLD' sign out front.

He parked in the driveway and went to look in the windows. The house was empty. She was gone.

Fuck! He'd spent a week tracking her before. Now, he'd have to start all over again. She was the only one that had ever gotten away. That hair. He wanted that hair. Once it had fallen out of that bun, or whatever it was called, that night he was caught, he was gone. He had to have it. Of all the trophies he had from the others, her hair would be his favorite. School would start soon, all the rich little boys and girls back at the university, and she'd be teaching again. He'd find her then.

And those men. The two who had come in after she'd screamed. They'd have to pay for denying him his prize. Oh, yes, they'd pay. They'd all pay.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has a lot of little details, but I promise they'll come together later. This is kind of a bridge chapter.

"Cath, this is huge." John pulled into the driveway of the house Catherine had found.

"Yes, it is big. 4200 square feet not including the garage and outside spaces. A little bigger than we talked about, but it's a pretty good bargain. McMansions are still out at the moment, and the bankruptcy receiver needs to get this sold. It's becoming a liability for them. My friend's inspector checked it out, and there aren't any structural problems or site defects or drainage problems."

"Site defects?" John asked.

"She means it's not going to slide off the hill or sink into a hole."

"I know that, Rodney," John put in.

"Was he a qualified inspector?"

"Yes, Rodney. He's a retired engineer, significant construction experience, and my friend says he's the best in the state." They got out of the car and she unlocked the door. "There's a nice master suite, a nice guest suite, and three other bedrooms. There's also something that looks like an office. If you don't mind mingling, I thought we could set it up as a library or study for all of us to share. There's a big media room in the basement. Giant flat screen TV. Life-sized football. A pool, and a hot tub off the master suite deck."

"I won't have to sleep on the couch anymore when I visit," Ronon laughed from the front passenger seat.

"What are we talking about for price here?" John asked as Catherine stood aside so they could see the foyer.

"They listed most of the homes on the golf course--the comps--for 750. I've got them down to 275 on this; we'd be looking at 1800 a month on a thirty-year note or 2100 on a fifteen-year note. Not including insurance and taxes. With a fifteen-year note, we'd be done with mortgage payments before you and Rodney retire."

"You got them down to 275 from 750? Do you have pictures of them naked or something?" Rodney asked.

"I'm a tough negotiator when I need to be. It helps that they're desperate and the judge is breathing down their neck to unload this."

"Remind me not to piss you off," Rodney said.

"Retire?" John asked. "How old do you think we are?"

"You're ten years older than I am. You're both forty-five. In fifteen years, John, you have to retire. FAA mandatory retirement age. You can spend the day on the golf course, and not worry about the mortgage while Rodney and I continue our wage slavery."

"You thought about that?" Rodney asked. "Fuckin' scary."

"Cath, do you really want this?" he took her shoulders and looked at her closely.

"John, I'd live in a tarpaper shack if you two were there with me. It's just bricks and drywall. If you don't like this, I've got a couple other possibilities we can see today. They're smaller. The bathrooms aren't as nice, either. I just want to be with you two and for us to be happy." She hugged him and snuggled close for his kiss. By this time, they'd looked at most of the first floor, and were at the doors of the master suite.

Catherine opened the door. It was a very large room, with enough space for three people to get dressed without getting in each others' way. There were his and hers closets between the bedroom and the bathroom. John and Rodney also liked the bathroom, with the big shower and big tub. They walked through the closet again.

"Let me guess," Rodney said. "You get the bigger closet, right?"

"Like you two fill the one you have now! Of course I get the big one."

"Ronon, Carson and Radek will be here next week. Can you stay until then?"  
\-----------------------

He drove past the parking lot adjacent to the English building again. No light in her office. Her car wasn't there. Not a surprise, as classes didn't start for two weeks. He hadn't seen her at the grocery store where she usually shopped, or the gym where she had a membership. He'd been watching university news in the papers, and hadn't seen anything about her leaving the English department. She could be out of town, it was still break.

He'd be patient. Two weeks. He could wait two weeks. The girl before her, he'd had to wait a month to find her alone. She'd been so sweet, even if she did have short hair. He'd taken her five times before her heart had stopped. He'd squeezed her neck a little too hard that last time, or he could have had her again. By the time they'd found her body, any evidence he'd missed had degraded. No worries.

This one, he'd be more careful. Her hair—he'd wrap it around her lovely neck as he took her over and over. Yes, this would be worth waiting for.  
\---------------------  
"RODNEY!" Catherine didn't raise her voice often, but when she did, everyone paid attention, even Rodney. She was tired of listening to them argue about the move. "I took care of it."

"What?" John and Rodney both looked at her.

"The movers will be here tomorrow. All we have to do is empty the trash. They'll pack it, take it all over, and unpack it. We just have to show them where to put it in the new house. The cleaning service is there right now, and they're booked for the next two days to help. The decorator is coming in two days, and we'll go over what we need to finish with furnishings. Let me know what you want, and she'll have it by the end of the week."

"I don't have to carry boxes?" Ronon asked.

"God, no," Catherine shook her head. "We're adults. We have money. We pay people to do this. And, Rodney, darling, we have the cleaning service come in twice a week, and we never have to fight about the housework. Someone does it for us."

"Catherine?" John asked.

"Yes?"

"You set this up already? In a week? It took two months to close on the condo."

"Yes, John. I'm a good customer—my checks clear. They like to keep me happy. And it's worth it to me to not have Rodney whining about his back, and you whining about how hard you have to work. And we don't have to argue about who scrubs the toilet. Come spring, we'll have a gardener and a pool guy, too."

"Fuckin' scary," Ronon shook his head.  
\-----------------------  
Catherine was in their new kitchen, making dinner. First, it was for six, then seven, and now eight. And she was still getting used to the new house. She knew Dr. Carson Beckett and Dr. Radek Zelenka were the two guests that with Ronon made six. Seven and eight were still mysteries—Rodney hadn't said who was coming, just that there would be two more. Improvisation. Well, they'd eat it and like it or they could darned well cook for themselves. She hadn't canceled her afternoon office hours to slave away in the kitchen so she could be unappreciated.

Ronon was picking up Carson and Radek at the airport. John would be back from his run to New York today in an hour or so, and Rodney would be home about that time. Their other guests would be here at seven.

She heard the garage door open. That would be Ronon. Still, she scooted closer to the knife block, relaxing when Ronon called her name. "Catherine, we're back."

Carson looked around. Ronon told them John and Rodney had moved, but not why. There was something different, he could feel it, and not just that the house was HUGE. First, dinner smelled good. John could cook, but just basic stuff, and this didn't smell basic. And the woman standing at the sink was definitely a new addition.

"Catherine, this is Dr. Carson Beckett and Dr. Radek Zelenka," Ronon introduced them. "Guys, this is Catherine, Rodney and John's . . ." he trailed off.

"Girlfriend?" she added. "It's a pleasure to meet you." She held out her hand. Carson shook it, somewhat automatically, as did Radek.

"Girlfriend?" Carson asked, puzzled. Rodney and John were lovers. Gay. They'd been together for a decade, at least. "Girlfriend as in friend who happens to be a girl, or girlfriend girlfriend?"

Catherine laughed. "Girlfriend as in girlfriend. Lover. I live here, with them."

Their expressions were priceless. She could see both of them looking her up and down, and could almost smell the smoke as the gears inside their brains clashed.

"Rodney and John are gay," Radek finally said. He looked more closely at her. She was lovely, this woman. A bit shorter than he was, blonde hair, probably a lot of it, piled on top of her head, and she was very shapely. She had nice breasts and a tiny waist. Nice legs, long for her height.

"I guess technically it's bisexual," Catherine corrected.

"Are you jokin' lass?" Carson asked, still not believing it.

"It's no joke, Doc," Ronon put in. "I didn't believe it, either."

"They have each other, and they're perfectly happy, and now they have a girlfriend? You'd think they'd leave the ladies to us puir single men," Carson laughed.

That broke the ice, and Catherine poured coffee for everyone. Carson, Radek, and Ronon sat at the kitchen table, talking, amongst themselves and with Catherine, waiting for John and Rodney to come home.

Radek's cell phone rang. He looked at it and excused himself to take the call.

"You've been watching me, lass," Carson said. "Have I something on my nose?"

Catherine flushed. "No, Carson, it's not that," she still blushed. "You remind me of someone."

"Who's that?"

"His name was Simon. He was also from Glasgow, so you have a very similar accent. It brings back memories."

"I think I'd like to hear this story," Ronon looked at her, still blushing.

"So would I," Carson added. "The way you're blushing, it must be good."

Catherine continued peeling potatoes. "My senior year in high school, Simon was Dad's TA. He lived in our basement apartment, and he and I...well, you know."

"So you have fond memories of being in bed with a bonny lad from Glasgow? I should have gone into physics," Carson laughed. Catherine moved on to the carrots. The door from the garage opened.

"You, a physicist?" Rodney laughed, coming into the kitchen. "What brought this on, Carson?" He came up to Catherine and kissed her.

"Catherine was telling us about her Glaswegian boyfriend, Simon," Carson added.

"Anyone I need to know?"

"No, Rodney," she looked a little far away. "Simon's been dead for years. Car accident."

"Who had an accident?" John asked, coming over to kiss Rodney and Catherine.

"Catherine's old boyfriend," Rodney picked up some carrots off the cutting board and popped them in his mouth.

"How come we've never heard of Simon before?" John asked.

"Because he was my boyfriend eighteen years ago, and he's been dead for ten of those years," Catherine looked up at him, and he kissed her again, his arms going around her waist. He pulled her close, his front to her back.

"So, I don't have to, like, kill him or anything?" John laughed.

"No, John. We only started talking about this because Carson's accent reminded me of Simon."

Carson watched the three of them together. They were close to each other, all touching as lovers touch when they come together after a separation. "You know, Rodney, putting what the three of you do together in words, it sounds more than a wee bit kinky,"

"Don't you love how that sounds? 'A wee bit kinky?'" Catherine asked John.

"I do," he winked at Carson. "Do you think we're kinky?" he asked Catherine, nuzzling her neck. Rodney watched them, an affectionate smile on his face. He was holding one of John's hands as John had it around Catherine.

"No. Do you?"

"No. Having you here feels right."

"It feels right to be here."

Radek came back to the kitchen. "Carson, do you ever feel as though John and Rodney use up all the luck in the universe?"

"Aye, Radek," he laughed. "How else can you explain this?"

"Cath, what do you want us to do?" John asked.

"Set the table." She handed him the plates and he took them into the dining room.

"Who else is coming?" John called.

"Sam Carter," Rodney put in.

"General Carter?" Radek and Carson asked simultaneously.

"Yeah. I ran into her at the conference today," Rodney was filching more carrots. "I ran into someone else, too," he looked at Catherine.

Catherine's stomach dropped. A physics conference, and Rodney with a surprise could only mean one thing. "Rodney, please tell me it's not my father."

"It's your father."

"Who's her father, Rodney?" Radek asked.

"Dr. George Schaeffer."

"Oh, Rodney," her shoulders sagged. "You didn't. You did NOT invite my father to dinner."

"Was I not supposed to do?"

"Well, he's not the best dinner guest in the world. And we don't exactly get along well. He's a little...abrasive. I just hope you'll all still speak to me after this."

"He's that bad?" John asked.

"I knew him for some years...before. He's a good relativist, but a bit hidebound. And easily as abrasive as Rodney," Radek said.

"I am not abrasive!" Rodney looked hurt. Catherine hugged and kissed him to make him feel better.

"After having lived with him for eighteen years, I can definitely say that my father is MUCH more abrasive than Rodney," Catherine put the carrots in the microwave.

"What's the plan for this weekend?" John asked.

"I laid in a supply of junk food. You can all watch sports on TV tomorrow. I'm going to have a spa day, so you can all talk about whatever it is you all did together without me here."

"A what?" five male voices asked.

"Spa day?" she looked at puzzled faces. "It's sort of an advanced beauty salon. Massage, mani/pedi, facial, haircut—"

"You are NOT getting your hair cut," Rodney put in.

"Hell, no," John added.

"Just a trim. No more than an inch, I promise," she laughed.

"Take it down," Rodney insisted. "John, hand me the tape measure."

"Rodney!" Catherine tried to sidestep him, but he caught her and started taking the pins out of her hair. He was actually getting good at it—he treated it like an engineering problem.

Rodney reached up and caught the tape measure John threw from their junk drawer. He measured her hair and tossed the tape back to John. "Twenty-eight inches. If it comes back shorter than twenty-seven, your stylist is going to get impaled on her own scissors."

"Rodney!" she laughed. "My stylist isn't a woman. His name's Sebastian."

"A man?" John looked at her warily. "A man cuts your hair? Is he gay?"

"No," she laughed. Like being gay had stopped John and Rodney! "He's married and has three kids. He's also short, fat and bald, but he's great with color. His wife works with him in the spa. She's the receptionist, and I think she'd beat up any woman who made a move on her husband."

"Rodney, don't you think she should be allowed to decide what to do with her own hair?" Carson looked at them. They were passing her around like she was a rag doll, and, for some reason he didn't quite understand, it bothered him.

"No," John and Rodney answered together. John pulled her out of the cooking area toward the table and turned her back towards Carson and Radek and Ronon.

"See what I mean?" John asked them.

"John!" she remonstrated, laughing, then hugged him, turning her face up for his kiss. Apparently, she understood their fascination with her hair. Catherine's hair came all the way down her back to her bottom. Bright blonde, it rippled in waves, too thick and heavy to curl. To her, it was just her hair, but they thought it was beautiful and she knew they loved it.

"Aye," Carson sipped his coffee. "I see what you mean. It's like Lady Godiva."

"Catherine, it would be a crime to cut your hair. It's very lovely," Radek added.

"I never cut MY hair, but you never say that about me," Ronon pouted.

Rodney threw a carrot at him.  
\-----------------  
The doorbell rang. It was six thirty. Rodney went to answer the door. He was followed back into the kitchen by a tall, blonde woman wearing an Air Force uniform with two stars.

Rodney ushered Samantha into the kitchen, and brought her over to Catherine to introduce her. "Catherine?" Sam couldn't believe it.

"Sam?" the two women hugged.

"What's it been, fifteen years?"

"At least! Don't remind me! Look at you! General Carter! I didn't know you'd stayed in."

"You two know each other?" Rodney asked, puzzled. John was just staring.

"We met at a physics conference years ago. Catherine was with her father. What are you doing here?"

"I live here, Sam. With John and Rodney."

Samantha looked at Rodney, then John, disbelief all over her face. "They're gay. You live with them?"

Rodney nodded, as did John, and Carson answered, "We didn't believe it, either."

"I'll be damned," was all Sam could say.  
\------------------  
The next ring of the doorbell, Catherine stiffened, but said, "I'll go," before Rodney or John could go instead. She knew it was her father.

Catherine opened the door. "Cathy," his voice boomed. He missed her wince. Thanks to her mother, 'Cathy' was one nickname she couldn't stand. "Nice to see you, dear." He looked her over. "Jesus, when are you going to cut off that mess of hair? Do you always look so sloppy?" Dr. Schaeffer was wearing a suit and tie.

"Please, Daddy, come in," Catherine sighed inwardly, a big smile pasted on her face.

John had followed Catherine out to the foyer. As he listened to Catherine's father, he looked at her. She was wearing jeans and a cashmere sweater, with flat-heeled shoes. They hadn't let her put her hair up, and he thought she looked lovely. And very sexy.

"You must be Dr. Schaeffer," John held out his hand.

"Who the hell are you?" George Schaeffer asked shaking John's hand.

"John, John Sheppard," he answered. "Catherine's significant other."

"Significant other? Isn't that like live-in boyfriend?"

"Daddy, you're being rude. Our house, our rules," she looked back to see Rodney coming into the living room. "Now, give me your coat, and Rodney will take you into the dining room. I'll get you a drink."

Dr. Schaeffer immediately latched onto Rodney, starting an argument about some physics paper of Rodney's he didn't agree with.

John put his arm around Catherine and she leaned into him, hugging his waist. "Cath, you okay?"

"I will be. After dinner. And after a couple of aspirin and a glass of wine."

"Is he always like that?"

"No. He's usually worse."  
\------------------  
Catherine's father monopolized the conversation at his end of the table. Radek, Rodney and Samantha exchanged looks with each other and Carson, Ronon, John and Catherine. Finally, he seemed to look around, come up for air, and then looked at Catherine. He chose a moment when everyone else was quiet and dropped his bomb.

"Cathy, tell me again. Which ones are you sleeping with?"

She took a deep breath. "Just John and Rodney, Dad," she looked at John, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "Anything else embarrassing you want to ask me, Dad, while it's nice and quiet and everyone can hear?"

"Can't think of anything else right now, Cathy. Maybe over dessert. What is for dessert, by the way?"  
\--------------------  
When everyone was finished, Catherine gathered up plates and took them into the kitchen. John followed with more plates, and pinned her at the sink, kissing her deeply. "Did you see him?" John asked her.

"He gets so excited, doesn't he? I've never seen him this excited."

"It's the physics conference. He gets off on the arguing."

"So, later, we can expect great things from our Rodney?"

"He'll probably have both of us and want more. I'm glad we have you now. Last time he got like this, he wore me out. I could hardly walk."

"Mmmm," she kissed him again, purring as she thought of 'later' and what would happen.

"I'd say 'get a room' but you two already have one," Carson laughed. He'd brought in more plates, and put them in the sink. "I'm just havin' a hard time gettin' my head around this." John and Catherine stopped kissing and looked at Carson, but didn't break apart.

"There are more things in heaven and earth Horatio Then are dream't of in your philosophie," Catherine quoted Hamlet. Both men looked at her. "What? I'm an English teacher, for goodness sake. What else am I going to do but quote Shakespeare?"

"He's quite a handful, isn't he?" John asked.

"My dad?" she asked back. "Yeah.

"We can't choose our family," Carson commiserated.

"Did I show you what he gave me?" Catherine asked.

"No. I didn't know he gave you anything," John answered.

"Yeah. After he finished hitting on General Carter, he cornered me in the kitchen and gave me this." She pulled a picture from her pocket. "Read the back." She had a funny look on her face.

John took it, looked at it, and saw a typical family portrait. Dr. Schaeffer was in the middle, surrounded by what probably were his children and grandchildren. He turned it over and read, "'To Dad from all your family with love. Sappy."

"Carson, I have eight brothers and sisters," she explained. "John, count heads."

"There's sixteen adults, and seventeen kids."

"All of my brothers and sisters are married. So is that or is that not all the family?"

"You're not in there, lass," Carson said, looking at her curiously. "You couldn't be there?"

"I wasn't invited."

"And he gave you this?" John asked, disbelievingly.

"He asked me if my sister had sent a copy of the picture, and wasn't it nice that we were all able to get together? I don't think he noticed I wasn't there. That's pretty typical."

"Oh, Cath," he pulled her close again. "I'm sorry. Rodney didn't know. If he'd known..."

"It's okay. I'll be fine. I have you two, and that's enough," she laid her head on his chest, and he stroked her hair. 

Carson watched, shaking his head. "I'm one of seven. Lots of nieces and nephews. I can't imagine any of us excluding another. It just doesna bear thinkin' about."

\----------------------

He cruised 'The Strip.' He'd pick up a hooker, a blonde if he could find one. It wouldn't be the same, but it would help.

Then it hit him. The real estate sign! He turned in the direction of her old house. He'd get the name of the agent, and see if he could get her new address. He kept a suit for just these occasions. When he cleaned up and put on the suit, he looked like an altar boy. His mother said so.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Contains language generally considered offensive. This is used to show the mindset of one of the characters and does not reflect my personal views. So, please don't flame me for using it.

This guy was a total creep. She could tell. Before she got into the car, she gave her partner the sign that meant 'take down the license plate and call the cops if I don't come back.' It was something they only did if they were really scared. Of course, they were rarely too scared to pass up a trick.

He drove into the warehouse district, and told her to get in the back seat. She started to take off her clothes, but he told her not to do.

"Just pull down your panties," he said.

"Don't wear, em, sugar," she smiled seductively. He frowned, and her smile disappeared. He opened his pants and tried to enter her. He couldn't—he was too soft. In all her years doing this, she never knew what to say. She reached for him to help him, but he slapped her hand.

"I don't need your help, bitch," he ground out, the other hand moving on his penis. He thought of her. That hair. That long, blonde hair. He'd have her, yes, he'd have her. Over and over. Suddenly hard, he pulled on a condom and stuffed himself into the hooker in his back seat and moved twice. He came, and that was it.

He got out of the car and reached for her hand. She took it and he pulled her out. She wasn't expecting it, and he cold cocked her, hitting her hard on the jaw with his right fist. She went down and lay unmoving on the pavement, alone in the dark. He drove off and left her there.

\---------------------  
Carson was about to get into bed and noticed he didn't have a glass of water. He went into the kitchen, joking with himself about getting lost on the way there in this giant house. Expecting to be alone, he was surprised to find Catherine unloading the dishwasher.

"What are you still doing up, lass?" he asked.

"I wanted to get this done now. I'll have to get up early for my spa day. Did you need something?"

"Just a glass of water," he smiled and she handed him a clean glass from the dishwasher, smiling back. He went to the sink and filled the glass. He thought for a minute, and his face changed.

"Ask me what you want to, Carson," she was still smiling at him, more gently now. "I can see it in your face."

"Rodney said you were good at reading people," he stalled.

"I am. Now, quit stalling and ask," she leaned up against the counter, crossing her arms.

"Why are you doing this? The way you look, and you're a lawyer and a professor, and you're with two gay men?"

"I didn't know John was gay when he first asked me out. I didn't know he and Rodney were a couple. I probably wouldn't have gone to lunch with him if I'd known," she thought back to that lunch, feeling the cheeseburger on her fingers, smelling the fries, tasting the sweetness of the Coke. "Rodney and I both agree—he's pretty irresistible. But to directly answer your question, I might look appealing, but most men are terrified by smart women, or they're mama's boys, or egotistical, or divorced for a good reason, or something else. Before I met John, I was celibate for eight years because I couldn't find anyone worth my time. I didn't even have that many dates."

"This house. Did they buy this for you?"

She laughed. "No, Carson, I'm not after their money. I fronted the twenty percent down payment. When I was in junior high, I invested my babysitting money. I was twelve and had a brokerage account and picked all my own stocks. I could support them from my investment income, if it came to that."

Carson stared. That was unexpected. But there was one other question he didn't know how to ask.

"Why do I stay?" she asked him.

"I didn't know how to ask that," he smiled again.

"I love them. I didn't know it was possible to love like this. I could never hurt them. I promise." She closed the now-empty dishwasher. She kissed him on the cheek. "Goodnight, Carson." She walked out of the kitchen, a smile on her face, anticipating what she'd find in the bedroom.  
\-----------------  
Catherine opened the door quietly. The room was dark, just a little light coming from the closet. Rodney and John were in bed, making love. They were so involved in each other, they didn't notice her come in. Both naked, she looked at them hungrily. They were so beautiful to her, angles and planes and hair and hardness. She could feel the blood pounding between her legs. Rodney had John's cock in his mouth, taking him deep. John moaned, throwing his head back. He grabbed Rodney's hair and pulled gently. Rodney sucked one last time, and moved over John as he leaned back into the pillows, kissing him deeply. She knew John was tasting himself as Rodney kissed him, and she licked her lips, remembering his taste herself.

Rodney grabbed for the lube, and prepared John. Catherine pulled her sweater over her head, then unfastened her bra and dropped it to the floor. Her nipples were at attention now from watching, and they hardened even more as the cool air hit them. Rodney entered John, both of them moaning as Rodney began thrusting, slowly at first, and then faster as they pushed toward climax. She unbuttoned and unzipped her jeans, pushing them down over her hips. She stepped out of them, leaving her panties on. A few minutes later, Rodney and John both stilled, gasping as they came, bodies and spirits reaching together.

Catherine could feel the wetness in her panties. Her pelvic muscles were lightly contracting, and she clenched them, shuddering. Rodney pulled out of John, rolled over, and saw her standing at the foot of the bed.

He grinned at her, that crooked grin she loved. "Where were you? Sorry, baby, but I couldn't wait."

Catherine crawled to him on all fours and kissed him, a kiss full of carnality and lust, as he lay back on the pillows. She felt rather than saw John reach for the tissues, and reached for his hand, stopping him. "Let me."

She licked his abs, and his eyes opened wide. "Cath!" God, he loved her tongue! In his mouth, on his body, on his cock, she could really work it. Catherine licked and sucked and twirled, and John wasn't sure if she'd cleaned him off or just spread it around, but he knew he didn't care.

Rodney watched her, remembering the feel of her tongue on his body as she took care of John. A minute of this, and he was hard again. He went to the bathroom and cleaned himself off, stroking his erection and thinking of Catherine and John. When he went back to the bedroom, John had obviously had enough of Catherine on top and the licking, and he'd flipped them so she was flat on her back. They both loved her that way, flat on her back and open to them. She was so sexy with her hair spread over their pillows, eyes closed and moaning.

Rodney's hand moved to his cock, stroking slowly as he watched John kissing Catherine, playing with her breasts. They had a chair in the bedroom now, and Rodney pulled the pillow off it, placing it under Catherine's hips. He touched her knees, and she opened to him, beautiful and vulnerable. He spread her labia and found her clit with his tongue. Licking and sucking, he felt her gasp and buck beneath them.

John looked at Rodney. He was so intent on Catherine. Intensity was one quality Rodney gave to whatever he did, and now he had it focused on their lover. John continued to kiss Catherine, her lips, her neck, her breasts, the flat of her stomach. He hadn't expected to be so hard again so soon, but it felt good.

When Rodney felt Catherine start to come, he moved over her and entered her. John's hand slipped between them, going to her clitoris, and she started making what they called her 'come noises,' not quite moans and not quite gasps. But sexy, very sexy. He used his other hand to stroke himself, watching Rodney fuck Catherine.

Rodney was losing himself again, this time in the hot wetness of Catherine. It was so different from John, but so good. He'd never be able to decide which he liked the best. And thank god he didn't have to choose. She was pulsing around him, coming and coming. As he came with her, he knew he'd want her again, and very, very soon. When he came down, he moved out of John's way, and his hand took the place of John's on her clit.

John entered Catherine and groaned. Rodney had fucked him, and now he was fucking Catherine. This was so hot, the three of them. He'd fantasized about threesomes in the past, and now one was in his bed every night.

Rodney watched them, stroking himself, his cock still wet from her. The arguing tonight had made him so horny, John had hardly walked into the bedroom before Rodney jumped him and drug him to bed. Now, he'd had John, and he'd had Catherine, and he'd have Catherine again. Maybe that would satisfy him completely, or maybe he'd just have to take John again. They'd all pay for this tomorrow, but it was worth it.

John came, still feeling Catherine contracting around him. Rodney kept his finger swirling on her clit, and kissed John, open mouth, tongue thrusting, sucking. They looked at Catherine, her face flushed, her eyes unfocused, her hands clenched in the blankets. Her hips were arching up to Rodney's hand, her heels digging into the bed, and her mouth was open as she made her come noises. They grinned at each other, and changed places again.

Catherine couldn't think. She knew Rodney had been first, and then John, and now Rodney again, and she couldn't think. She could only feel. Ecstasy. This was pure ecstasy, and she rode the crest as long as she could. Rodney was pounding into her, matching the rhythm of her heart, and then she felt him bucking, coming inside her. John's finger moved more slowly on her clit now, bringing her down gently.

Catherine didn't know how long it took her to come down. She felt Rodney on her right and John on her left, watching her, touching her, touching each other, kissing her, kissing each other, playing with her hair, playing with her breasts. She was sure all her bones had turned to jelly, and she couldn't move, she couldn't speak.

"Cath," John murmured against her hair, "Are you okay, baby? Did we hurt you?" He nuzzled down her neck.

Rodney's teeth were nibbling her breast, and she managed to reach her hand up to stroke his hair. He turned into her hand and kissed her palm. She smiled, and managed to focus on John's face above hers. "Rodney, look at her," John laughed.

Her skin was reddened in places from whisker burn, her hair was all over the place, and she was a sticky mess between her legs. And the smile on her face was one as old as Eve, pure sex and pure satisfaction. Her voice was husky and sexy, purring with pleasure. "That was fantastic. I don't think I can move. Could one of you help me to the bathroom? I really have to pee."  
\-----------------

Saturday was the day most working women went to the beauty shop. His mom had gone every other Saturday, carefully saving enough of the household money to pay for it. Chances are, if she went to the beauty shop, she went on Saturdays, too. He was sure she was a natural blonde, but they did other things there these days, he knew that.

He remembered hearing her say something to her TA about a Sebastian, and he'd paged through the phone book looking for something with that name. He'd found it, some place just called 'Sebastian,' and he'd thought how pretentious that sounded. Probably some faggot with long hair and an earring and an effete manner. He didn't like the idea of a faggot touching her, even if it was just to do her hair.

\------------------

"Johnson, what the hell is this?" Ritter asked, picking up a piece of paper from his desk.

"That came down from the Fibbies," Johnson replied. Ritter was looking at a picture of an unknown subject on a 'Seeking Information' bulletin. "Don't you think that looks like that guy who broke into the professor's house?"

"Fits the profile, too," Ritter read down. "Serial murderer and rapist. All victims average height, pretty, blonde hair. Probably stalks them, then breaks into their house, usually back door, assaults them, then kills them. Leaves almost no evidence. Cleans and poses the bodies. He broke into her house through the back door, and she's blonde, average height, and drop-dead gorgeous. You gonna call her, or call ADA Lawrence?"

"I think I'll call Lawrence, and then call that Sheppard guy. She called last week and told me she'd moved in with him. He looked like he knew how to handle himself. I ran him through the system, just to check and see that he had the concealed carry permit he said he did, and I had a call from the Air Force. I was politely asked to back off if I knew what was good for me. At any rate, I don't think I'd want him mad at me."

\-------------------  
John's cell phone rang as he was pulling on his sweats. Rodney and Catherine were already up and out of the bedroom. If he knew Rodney, he was probably doing Catherine in the laundry room. They'd discovered the table in there was the perfect height...

"Sheppard."

"This is Detective Johnson. I was calling about Dr. Schaeffer. That guy that broke into her house, we think he might actually be wanted by the FBI."

"Wanted for what?" John's eyes narrowed.

"Rape. Murder. Several counts in several states."

"Fuck. And he's out on bail."

"There's a problem. He's not leaving evidence we can use to tie him to the crimes. No DNA, no fingerprints, no trace. He takes his time and cleans up really well. Methodical, and dangerous. Is Dr. Schaeffer still living with you?"

"Yeah. She's here."

"You need any help?"

"No. We'll take care of it. Thanks for calling." John closed his phone. He'd had a bad feeling about this from the start, and now it was just getting worse.  
\----------------  
John walked into the kitchen. Carson and Ronon were at the table, drinking coffee. Rodney was watching the toaster, smiling to himself. Catherine was at the stove with a skillet full of eggs, and he relaxed. He went over and kissed her. "I need to talk to you before you leave," he purred.

"Andy Lawrence called me already," she kissed him back.

"You'll have to stay home today," he looked at her, as she moved the pan off the burner.

"No, I won't," she smiled.

"Cath—" his voice ratcheted up a notch, warningly.

"I already asked Ronon to drive me down. I'll take my cell, it's fully charged, and I'll keep it with me all the time. He won't try anything in a salon full of people. I'll call when I'm done, and you can come get me," she kissed him again, and then moved to put the eggs in a bowl.

"I can live with that. Just be really careful, okay?"

"I promise. You are so sweet," she kissed him again. John pulled her close, and they deepened the kiss, losing track of the kitchen and everyone else in it.

Rodney looked over, and threw a piece of toast at them. "Geez, you two. Get a room." He laughed as they broke apart and looked at him. John had that lecherous grin he loved, and Catherine's smile was pure seduction.

"You three are going to put me off my food over here," Ronon's voice broke in. "Just put the damned eggs on the table already."  
\---------------------

"Hi. I was looking for Louise Potts," he approached the secretary at the realtor's office with a smile on his face.

"Mrs. Potts is out showing a home right now," the woman replied. "Could one of our other agents help you, sir?"

"Gosh, I don't know," he smiled, and laid his props on the table. Two books, scholarly looking, Shakespeare. "I borrowed these from my neighbor, Dr. Catherine Schaeffer, and I saw she's moved. I was hoping to get her new address so I could return them."

"Let me call one of the agents up. I think we can help you with that, but only the agents have access to that information." She reached for her phone, and pressed some buttons on the intercom. "Hi, this is Lizzie." Pause. "I need an agent at the front desk." Pause. "Okay. Thanks." She turned her face back up to him. Too bad, he thought, she was a brunette. "Oscar will be right with you. You can have a seat over there."

He was close—so close. He could feel it, and had to struggle to keep from showing his excitement.

"Sir?" a male voice broke into his concentration. "I'm Oscar Hijuelos. How can I help you today?"

Fucking Spics. Probably illegal, here taking the jobs he should have had. "Hi, Oscar. Dr. Catherine Schaeffer was my neighbor, and now she's moved. I wanted to return these books I borrowed from her. Could you give me her new address?"

"I'm sorry, sir, but we don't give out clients' personal information. If you'd like to leave them with me, I'll give them to the agent that handled her listing, and we'll get them back to her for you."

The rage flew through him, hot and red. He tamped it down, ruthlessly, smiling for this jerk off. "That's really nice of you," he said as he handed Hijuelos the books. "Thanks for your help. You make sure she gets those back now, okay?"

"I'll sure do that. Thanks for stopping by."

He turned and walked out the door. When he was stopped at the first stoplight on the way home, he started pounding the steering wheel. Bitch! He'd do her, alright. She'd feel this frustration. Hard to get, was she? Well, he'd make her think twice about that.


	10. Chapter 10

"Ronon, I need to leave if I'm going to be on time for my appointment," Catherine put her plate in the dishwasher and looked over at the table.

"Which car?" he asked John.

"Take the Jag," John threw him the keys.

Catherine went over to kiss him goodbye. "How come you never let me drive the Jag?" she joked.

"You never ask," he laughed.

"And I never will, either," she promised. She moved to Rodney and kissed him goodbye.

"Be safe, Baby," he told her.

Ronon and Catherine grabbed their coats. Radek wandered into the kitchen as the door closed behind them.

"Now that she's gone, I have some questions for you lads," Carson started.

"What the hell are you thinking?" Radek finished.

"I need more coffee for this," Rodney got up and went to get the pot.

"She's right for us," John said.

"You're forgetting that I've known you since before you two were lovers," Carson obviously had a lot to say, and wasn't going to let John and Rodney ignore him. "I saw what you went through to get to this point. The guilt, the recriminations, the hiding, the sneaking around. When one of you was hurt, I held the other's hand. And now you're telling me you just decided one day to find a girl for a permanent threesome? There's got to be more to this than that, and we damned well deserve to know what it is. Is she blackmailing you or something?"

John laughed at that. "She hasn't told anyone but her father and the people who did our paperwork we're together. They can't say anything because of privacy laws. And I really don't think her father really cares. He had a mistress, openly, for Pete's sake. It would hurt her a lot more than it would hurt us to come out as a threesome."

"You are awfully quiet, Rodney," Radek accused.

"I love her," he said simply. "I love her as much as I love John. It's different, but it would kill me the same way to lose her. You're forgetting—we always liked girls. We still do."

"Carson, Radek, since we've been together, Rodney's always been faithful to me. But I haven't been faithful to him. Every few years, I meet some girl, screw around for a while, and then she finds out about Rodney and that's it," Rodney came over to John and they held hands. John looked up at him. "I pursued her, she didn't pursue me, and if I'd told her Rodney wasn't okay with her being with me, she would never have gone to bed with me. And she was prepared for me to sleep with her and then walk away. Never call her again. She expected to be with us until the novelty wore off and we kicked her out. We stopped her from finding a new house."

"What's up with this house, by the way?" Carson asked.

"We took Catherine to a concert, and when she got home, this guy had broken into her house, and he tried to rape her. I heard her scream, and we called the cops. He's out on bail now, and that's why we called Ronon. We begged her to stay with us. She never asked."

"She put her house on the market the day after it happened. She was planning to rent an apartment until she found a new house, and we had to beg her to stay with us. I just have a really bad feeling about this guy, and the thought of him hurting her makes me sick," Rodney shuddered. "In the process of worrying about her, I fell in love with her."

"I pretty much already was," John laughed.

"She's a stray who followed you home, and you decided to keep her?" Carson prodded.

"Carson!" John's voice held censure.

"Carson, she understands what it's like to be from a dysfunctional family, yes, and that's part of why she loves us. She understands us. But it's more than that. She's, she's . . ." uncharacteristically, Rodney couldn't find the words to finish.

"She's smart and funny, and she's sweet and kind," John started.

"And she's hot and a good lay," Carson poked some more. "You can pay a girl for that."

"What is your problem?" Rodney was starting to get aggravated.

"My problem is that all of a sudden, two friends who went through hell to be together have done something absolutely crazy and out of character, and I'm afraid they're going to be hurt. Badly. If that's a problem, then too fucking bad," Carson challenged.

"Carson, we're big boys now. We don't need a babysitter," Rodney snarked. "And we sure as hell don't need your permission."

"Rodney," John and Radek spoke at the same time. Radek indicated John should speak. John squeezed Rodney's hand and looked up at him. "I understand Carson's point. You know he's always been there for us. And you remember how hard it was to get to this point. But, Carson, we love her. We checked her out pretty thoroughly and she's exactly who she says she is. We just fell in love. Now, we need to change the subject before we say something we'll all regret."

"Carson, can't you just accept her and be happy for us? How many people get one chance at love, much less two chances? I'm just blown away that she wants us both," Rodney smiled.

"Now that I've raked her over the coals, you two aren't forcing her, are you?"

Rodney and John looked at Carson like he'd grown two heads. "First you accuse her of taking advantage of us, and now you think we've coerced her as some kind of sex slave? What the fuck is your problem, Carson?"

"Rodney, Carson is just playing, how do you say, the advocate of the devil. You must have known we would have questions," Radek's voice was placating, but Rodney was still getting up a full head of steam.

"Rodney, calm down," Carson realized he might have gone too far. "I have a right to be concerned. Even you have to admit this relationship is more than a bit . . ."

"Unconventional?" John remembered Catherine's word for her tastes in men. "That's what Catherine said on our first date. She said she's not into 'permanence and picket fences.' Her words. And it doesn't surprise me a bit, now that I've met her father," he looked up at Rodney. "Rodney, do you remember when we asked her to stay with us permanently?" Rodney nodded.

"She was crying. She didn't even realize it, I think, but she was crying," he grinned wistfully, one corner of his mouth turned up in that crooked grin he always had. "She was just stunned. I think we're damned lucky we have her."

All four men were silent for a moment, and then Ronon came in from the garage. "She's at the spa," he said. He looked around and noticed the tension in the room. "Carson lit into you, then?" he laughed.

"And you figured this out how?" Rodney snarked.

"Well, you all look like you've been fighting," Ronon laughed. "Catherine got in the car, buckled her seat belt, and the first thing she said to me was 'Carson should be ripping them a new one right about now.'"

"Fucking scary," Rodney laughed. "Sometimes I feel like I'm in one of those cartoons with my thoughts in a little bubble over my head."

"She makes us eat our veggies, too," John laughed. "But she bought us Cheetos to eat while we watch sports on TV. Ya gotta love a woman who'll buy you Cheetos and tell you to watch sports all day!"  
\------------------------  
"Pass it! Pass it!" John yelled at the television. The five of them were downstairs in the 'media room' watching basketball.

"He shoots, he scores!" Rodney whooped as the forward swished a three-pointer through the basket. "How's Elizabeth?"

"She's fine," Ronon and Radek answered together. Radek continued, "She spends probably twelve hours a day with the administrative work, and she usually talks to Atlantis at least once a day. She will not tell me if she misses Atlantis, but I think she does. As do we all," he sighed.

"Any problems with the Wraith?"

"No, when they went back into hibernation we nuked almost all of them," Ronon replied. "Like shooting fish in a barrel. I might go back if they start culling again, but I don't think there's enough of them left to cause problems for a while."

"You two like working for the IOA?" John asked.

Radek indicated Ronon should go first. "It's okay. Dr. Weir keeps me busy. And then I do some stuff on the side if I have time, or if other people who I won't mention can't handle their women." John threw popcorn at him, and Ronon threw back a Cheeto.

"It is fine. I am still working with the Ancient technology, but the new administrator of Atlantis is an ass. Another one."

"Thank god we have Sam Carter in the Pentagon, but the president can't find his ass with his hands."

"Why did you really leave, Rodney?" Radek asked. He remembered the reasons Rodney had given him—looking for new challenges, tired of Area 51, couldn't stand the new administrator—but he was sure there was more.

"It just wasn't the same anymore. There wasn't any adventure to it. With Elizabeth gone and the city fully populated, it was too much. I still see most of your work, you know. And I don't know how you stand to work with those idiots," he looked at Radek.

"I still don't know why they picked that asshole Peterson as administrator. I couldn't deal with him. Woolsey would have been a better choice. How many people did he kill the first two months?" John asked, getting the old sick feeling in the pit of his stomach.

"Eighteen. That last mission shook up the IOA enough that they appointed a military commander who he'd listen to. Another ass kisser, though. I wouldn't work for any of them," Ronon remembered vividly telling Peterson where to stick it.

"Well, Elizabeth wanted to stay with the program, and the IOA position was the only way she could do so. And the chief engineer position was the only way I could stay with her. It is only for a few more years, and then we are going to move to Hawaii and lie on the beach all day," he joked.  
\------------------------  
"So, Sam, they have you babysitting now?" Catherine asked General Carter as they lay on the benches in the sauna, steaming gently.

"Well, with Jack and the kids, I don't have much time to myself, so I wasn't about to turn down a spa day, even if it is babysitting duty," Sam laughed.

Catherine opened her eyes and looked over at Sam. "This is a very personal question, but I just have to ask you this. Did you sleep with Simon, too?" she laughed.

"God, didn't everyone?" Sam laughed back. "He was such a tomcat. Anything in a skirt. How did you put up with him that long?"

"I was seventeen, remember? I wasn't stuck on Simon, so much as I was stuck on the sex. And he was very good at sex." They smiled at each other. "That was the worst year. I hated high school, I hated my mother, I hated everything, and sleeping with him, I could make it all go away for a little while. I could ignore a lot for that."

"Whatever happened with your mom, anyway?" Sam asked.

"She conned me into going to law school. She actually paid for it, though," Catherine sat up, remembering. "She knew she was dying, and in her will, she told me she'd found out about Simon, and I was a whore like my aunt, and she disinherited me. Dad gave me some money, and I went to Cornell for their writing program. Did you ever make up with your dad?"

"Yeah. We worked together for a while, even. I miss him."

"Now that we're both depressed, let's change the subject," Catherine laughed and laid back down. "How are Jack and the boys?"

"Jack's fine. He likes being a stay-at-home dad. He takes the boys to school and volunteers in their classroom. During breaks, they go up to the cabin and fish. He actually stocked the lake when they had a fit about never catching any fish," she laughed.

"You know John and Rodney from that project, don't you?" Catherine asked.

"I can't tell you about it, Cath," Sam answered.

"I know you can't. But I'll take that as a yes."

"How did you know?"

"The way you talked to John. Rodney, it was all physics arguing, yes, but like you'd been doing it longer than just the conferences, and more than just collegial. He had a thing for you, didn't he?"

"He's always liked blondes," Sam laughed, "but he always rubbed me the wrong way. I don't know how you and John can stand him. What is up with that, by the way?"

"You know we can't choose who we love," Catherine smiled to herself. "I'm just totally in love with them. It's just so . . ." she paused. "I don't know. How do you explain love? I teach English, I write, I work with words all day, and I don't have the words for this. I just love them."

"How do you . . . ?" Sam sat up and looked at Catherine.

"It's just sex, Sam. The mechanics are all the same," she laughed.

"But, two guys," she looked askance.

"Sometimes I watch them, sometimes one watches the other with me, sometimes it's all three of us. When John's gone, it's just me and Rodney. Sometimes, I write at night, and it's just Rodney and John. And, yes, I can always tell the difference, and yes, the sex is good," she smiled and tightened the muscles between her legs, shivering in spite of the heat of the sauna, thinking about last night. And this morning on the table in the laundry room after she'd finished her workout. "Mindblowingly fantastically awesome sex," Catherine explained.

"Mindblowingly fantastically awesome sex?" Sam laughed. "That good?"

"Better. Way better." The timer buzzed, and they grabbed their towels and headed out for their massage.  
\-------------------------

He'd been staking out the salon since before it opened. He watched the staff come in, marveling at how many people worked there. No long-haired faggots, though, which lifted his mood a little. Just the one man, and all the rest were women. He was getting impatient, watching the customers come in, wondering if he should leave and go home to fondle his trophies, and he caught a break.

She got out of a Jaguar sports car. Expensive. Apparently she'd taken up with some man who had money. Not good. But who the hell was the man driving? He wasn't one of the two that were in her house that night. He was younger and had horrific hair. What were those, dreadlocks? Disgusting. She didn't kiss him, though, just leaned in and talked to him for a minute and then went inside. Had she found another man already?

What to do? When he first saw her, she'd been alone, and that's why he'd wanted her in the first place. And now, there were three men in the picture. She looked like an angel, she did. Like the pictures his mother had of the angels. He'd thought so often about them, masturbating to their pictures, the blonde hair and blue eyes, flowing gowns. Pure, beautiful women. No way were those men, as some of his friends had tried to tell him. They were women, and he was no faggot. When he saw them here on Earth, the beautiful angel women, he couldn't help himself, and he took them, feeling even better than when he'd only had the pictures. But the feeling didn't last, and neither did the women. Somehow, they always gave out before he was finished with them. Weak. Everyone knew women were the weaker sex, and this proved it.

Three men. She was involved with three men. This was not good. He'd always had a hard time sharing. He'd never had many friends because he wouldn't share his toys. He wouldn't share his locker, he wouldn't share his lunch, and he damned well wouldn't share his angels. This one, this Dr. Schaeffer, was she a slut? She was supposed to be his angel, not like one of the hookers he had when he couldn't find an angel.

What should he do? She'd probably be at the salon for a while. He decided to follow the Jag and see where it led him.

He tried to stay back, not be impatient. It was so hard. He wanted to tailgate the car, be sure he didn't lose it in traffic. He was sure the driver didn't know he was being followed. And then, all of a sudden, the Jag was gone. He'd looked away for maybe a minute, in the rear-view mirror, trying to change lanes. Fuck! He circled around, looking for the car. It should have been easy to find, but it was just gone. Fuck! He pounded his steering wheel in frustration again, and headed back to the salon. She'd better still be there . . .

\----------------------  
Ronon watched the sedan make a circle around where he had concealed the Jag. He'd known almost immediately someone was following him. This guy was good, but nowhere near Ronon's league. Few were. Of course, running from life-sucking vampires for seven years had honed skills he'd never lose. Some things you never forgot.

He drove home, planning out how they'd take care of the guy. Ronon was sure he was going back to the salon to pick up Catherine's trail. She'd be safe there until they could set something up. Sam Carter was there, and there were lots of other people around. The only question would be whether Sheppard wanted to take him out for good, or let the locals handle it. Didn't matter, of course, although Ronon knew for sure which option he preferred. Finish it and be done.  
\----------------------  
"If you are all done gossiping, I have some news," Ronon threw up a piece of popcorn and caught it in his mouth.

"You pick him up?"

"Yeah. He was staking out the salon, and he tried to follow me. I'm pretty sure he's headed back there. We taking him out, or saving him for the locals?"

"I vote for take him out, but that could cause problems," Rodney leaned forward, watching the game, intent on what he thought was a bad call by the referee. "What kind of call is that? Get new glasses, asshole."

"I'd rather take him out myself," John kept popping Cheetos. "But this isn't the Wild Wild West."

"Or the Pegasus Galaxy," Carson reminded them. "You'd better just truss him up for the police."

"Trouble is, he hasn't done anything yet. They suspect him of being a serial killer, but they have no evidence. Nothing to tie him to any crimes except a bad artist sketch of someone a little old lady with glasses saw at a neighbor's house two states over. No DNA, no fingerprints, no trace. No confession. I'd like to get some information out of him before we take him out," John enumerated their problems. "Maybe give some families some closure."

"Well, I'm certainly not the government, and I don't have a problem taking him out," Ronon continued. "We could set him up in the basement and get him to talk. We used to be pretty good at that."

"I don't want him around Catherine," John almost snarled.

"Okay, not the basement. But how are we going to catch him without her?"

"You want to use Catherine as bait?" Rodney almost came out of his chair.

"Just asking, man," Ronon put up his hands, trying to placate Rodney.

"Rodney, he has a point," John didn't like the idea, but he didn't know how else to go about this.

"Just exactly what are you planning here?" Carson's eyes narrowed. "Now you're using the puir lassie as BAIT? Are ye daft?"

"The five of us and Sam Carter, I'd say that improves the odds," John looked thoughtfully. "Come on, that was charging," he looked at the TV. "And no way would we do anything without her on board."

"I want this over. Classes start soon, and I don't want her distracted. It's distracting for me, and I so do not need that. Let's do it while you're all here, and get it over with," Rodney reached for his cell phone. "I'll call Sam and she can talk to Cath."  
\--------------------------  
"Catherine, I'm really not comfortable with this," Sam closed her phone and looked down at the woman painting her toenails a soft shade of pink.

Catherine looked appraisingly at Sam. "If you were in my place, what would you do?"

"Well, I'd shoot the bastard myself, but that's just me," Sam said.

"Yes, but John won't teach me to shoot. So, if we aren't shooting him outright ourselves, what's left? I should just let this drag on? Wonder if he's watching me every time I leave the house? How long do I let that go on? A week? A month? A year? What if he drops me and tries to kill someone else? We're not the only blondes in the world. Let's just get it over with."

"Catherine, what on Earth are you talking about?" the manicurist looked up.

"Judy, before Christmas, someone broke into my house and tried to assault me. He's out on bail and following me, and I want it to stop."

"My God!" Judy exclaimed. "Are you alright? How did you stop him?"

"That new boyfriend of mine. He actually came to my rescue," Catherine had conveniently left out the fact that the boyfriend was actually two boyfriends.

"Like a knight in shining armor! How romantic!" Judy was a sucker for a good romance novel, and it showed. "You're okay, though?"

"Yes, I'm okay. And everything's going to work out. I moved in with my boyfriend, and we have a good security system at the house. I'll be fine, so don't worry." Catherine looked at Sam, and they silently agreed to hold the discussion until they were alone.  



	11. Chapter 11

Back to index  
Eleven by  
\------------------  
What the fuck was she doing in there? It was lunch time, and she'd been in there for three hours. His mom was in and out of the beauty shop in an hour. There was a fast-food restaurant a couple blocks down, so maybe he could grab a bite from the drive thru and get right back. He looked and saw a long line of cars. He'd wait. Damn! He was getting so frustrated with her. But it would be worth it, if only he could have her hair. His collection wouldn't be complete without it.

\--------------------  
"Where do you keep it?" Ronon asked.

"We've got a trunk in the bedroom closet. I don't think Cath's noticed it," John answered.

"Oh, come on," Rodney snarked. "How could she not notice this huge military trunk we have in plain sight, locked and we won't tell her about it? She's not stupid, John."

"She's never said anything about it," John looked a little put out.

"She never asks questions about a lot of stuff, but that doesn't mean she's not right on the money most of the time. Okay, all of the time," Rodney corrected himself.

"What do you still have?" Ronon wanted to know how they could play out the various scenarios.

"A couple of zats, P-90s, flash bangs, tac vests, belts, couple of Glocks, ammo, headsets, smoke grenades—not much." When you were used to having a full arsenal, including tactical nuclear weapons, at your disposal, a trunk full of stuff in the closet wasn't much.

"They know you got the zats?"

"Hell, no. And I'm not going to tell them, either." John used his 'and you'd better agree with me' voice.

"They won't hear it from me, man," Ronon laughed. Peterson's idea of performing inventory was something less than thorough. And he sure as hell wouldn't tell Elizabeth a couple of zats were in private hands. Not that he—or the Air Force, come to think of it—considered John and Rodney 'private.'

"How are we going to play this out?"

"You're sure Catherine's on board with this?" Carson asked, his voice stern.

"She sure sounded like it," Rodney said. At Carson's look, he elaborated. "I was politely informed that she was 'tired of this shit,' and if John wasn't going to let her get a gun and shoot the son of a bitch herself, we'd better get our collective asses in gear and take care of it. Today wouldn't be too soon."

"She wanted to shoot him herself?" John laughed.

"You told her she had to wait until this whole thing is finished before you'd take her to the range, and I think she's a little pissed off," Rodney smiled. "I'm glad I'm not the one she's mad at."

"Catherine?" Radek was surprised. "She seems so sweet."

"Yeah, sweet like a great white shark," John looked at him. At Radek's puzzled look, he continued. "This house was supposed to sell for three times what we paid for it. She negotiated the price down all by herself. Our accountant looked at the figures and thought it was a misprint. I think he went out and picked up everything she has in her portfolio, too."

"You pick her up, we're waiting here at home?"

"No guarantees he'll follow us in. I thought we'd darken the house, make it look like she's alone. You drop her off, then park the car on the next street, come through the back yard and see if he bites. He comes in through the back door."

"I thought you didn't want him around Catherine?" Carson asked.

"I don't. I don't want him in my house. But we don't have time to set up a blind. We'll have to do it here. Zat him, tie him up until the cops come, and turn him over. With a second B an E, they won't bond him out."

"You gonna let me talk to him?" Ronon wanted to know.

"Will he be bleeding after you're through?" Rodney's voice was hard.

"If you want. Otherwise, I'll just break a few things," Ronon's voice was equally hard.

"I'm in favor of cutting off his dick and stuffing it down his throat," John's eyes were narrowed and flinty. The other men recognized it as his 'show no mercy' look. At Carson's shudder, John asked, "What?"

"Little scary there, laddie," was all Carson said.

"He's trying to hurt my family," John explained. "That is not something I tolerate."  
\--------------------------  
"What did they set up?" Catherine was lying back in a contour chair, mud pack covering her face. Her hair had a highlights cap with strands poking through, and her body was wrapped like a mummy in herb-coated plastic wrap. Sam, in the chair next to her, was similarly attired, except her mud pack was green instead of pink. They both had cucumber slices on their eyes. They were alone again for the moment and could talk.

"I think they're planning to decoy him to the house. Ronon's picking you up, and this time he'll let the guy follow him. Ronon will park a couple of streets over, and then stake out the back. If he comes in, they'll take him out then. Are you sure you're okay with this?"

"I really hope he takes the bait. He's completely ruined my spa day," Catherine sighed.  
\--------------------------

What the fuck did a woman do in a beauty shop for seven hours and come out looking just the same as when she'd gone in? Her hair was styled a little differently, but she looked exactly the same as she had that morning when dreadlocks guy dropped her off. It was dreadlocks guy again, picking her up, and this time, he was even more careful when he followed them.

From a block behind, he watched her get out of the car. The porch light was on, and he could see the house in the twilight. Fuck, that thing was huge. She must have some sugar daddy. That first guy, the one with the gun, maybe he was loaded. That suit HAD looked expensive. Dreadlocks guy didn't even wait until she was in the house before he drove away. Sloppy, very sloppy. Well, that was to his advantage.

He drove past, slowly, and watched her turn on lights, following her path through the house. He kept driving, and headed home. He'd watch her for a couple of weeks and find a good time to take her. People were such creatures of routine. They went to the same places, via the same streets, and parked in the same places. Most never varied from day to day. Women were especially bound to their routine. That made it easy for him to hunt them.

\-------------------------------  
"John, you are not sitting up in that chair all night. Put the gun on the night table and come to bed. Ronon's downstairs, and we have the alarm on silent. Please?" she looked at him seductively.

"Cath," he knew what that look meant. Sex. But he didn't want her to distract him. He'd been so sure the guy would try something tonight.

"John, it'll work out. Just come to bed."  
\-------------------

He'd wait until school started. In the meantime, he needed another job. He'd lost his old one after he was arrested. Wearing khakis and a button-down shirt, he took is altar-boy face to the warehouse district union hall. His story was all worked out. A girlfriend thing. She was screwing with him, and it was all just a big misunderstanding.

\-------------------------------  
"Catherine, please don't argue with me. You'll commute with Rodney, or I'll drive you to work," John was gentle, but firm.

"John, we don't all have the same hours. There's no reason for you two to drag yourselves out of the house so early if you don't have to do. I'll be fine."

"If you let us drive you, I'll take you to the range this afternoon. You're free this afternoon, and I'll teach you how to shoot," he dangled the carrot, coming over to the sink to nuzzle her neck.

"You know I can't think when you do that," she turned. He kissed her, thoroughly this time, running his hands over her back and breasts.

"Yeah," he nibbled on her ear. "Please, baby. I don't want to worry about you." He pulled her into his hips and rubbed against her, teasing and promising.

"John, I have to go to work. At this rate, I'll be late for class."

"Promise me first," he whispered. His hands were still on her butt, holding her close, and his lips were on her neck, near her ear.

"I promise," it was impossible for her to resist him when he did that, and he knew it. " Now, let me go, and let's get to work. I can't be late on the first day."  
\-----------------------  
Her first section of English 102 at 0800 was comprised mainly of sleepy college students who couldn't get into another section, and non-traditional students coming off the night shift at a local manufacturing plant. The company paid for college classes, and offered higher pay and promotions for those who earned their degrees, so many of their employees took advantage of that benefit. The 'traditional' students hated the 'non-traditional' students for swotting and ruining the curve, and the 'non-traditional' students thought the 'traditional' students were lazy slackers who whined about everything. It generally made for lively discussion, but it could get out of hand if not moderated carefully.

Her second section was her 'jock section.' No matter what she did or how she scheduled, she always ended up with one section of students who were all athletes. This semester was no different. She walked into a room full of young men, all wearing sweats, looking fit and bored.

"Ah, yes," she looked around, amused. "My jock section. Is there anyone in here who is NOT on an athletic scholarship?" No hands raised. Of course. The athletic department registered their students en masse so the athletes didn't have to waste valuable training time standing in line, and they always filled her section first. One of these days . . . "Which sports do I have this semester?"

One guy looked around. "We're all on the baseball team." Everyone else nodded. Well, that would be interesting when they were all at a game.

"Well, I like baseball, but be warned," she looked stern and her voice changed. "I don't give a hoot if you're just marking time until you get called up by the Yankees because you're the next Nolan Ryan. You WILL work in my class or I WILL fail you. I will accommodate your schedules for missing classes due to official travel, but I will NOT excuse late work. EVER. Now, let's get to it!  
\----------------------  
"Catherine!" Rodney walked in the door from the garage to the kitchen in a very bad mood.

"What?" she turned around from the refrigerator and tossed the celery to John.

"Aren't you clowns in the English department teaching these idiots anything?"

"Which clowns and which idiots, Rodney?" she pulled the pasta out of the cupboard.

"I have another batch of papers that are barely intelligible, that don't follow format, and that are probably plagiarized. I always assume that the students taking English 101 learn how to write a simple scientific paper, but my confidence seems to be misplaced."

"You two are SO not going to fight about that in this kitchen again," John snapped Rodney with a dish towel.

"No, baby," Catherine went over and kissed him, then went to Rodney for his kiss. "Rodney, I'm not sure that all of my colleagues know how to write a scientific paper, much less teach the technique. Why don't we put together a class for scientific writing? Interdisciplinary, physical and biological sciences and engineering with English. There's an old one in the catalog, but no one in the English department wants to teach it. They had a TA do the last section, and the students ate him alive. We'd have to get some of the other science faculty on board, but I'm sure your abilities to interact well with your colleagues will get them right on board."

"Speaking of low blows, Blondie...." he laughed.

"Yes, I know. How's business? Well, if you apologize for calling me a clown, I'll show you later tonight," she sent him a coquettish glance over her shoulder.

Rodney apologized.  
\-----------------------  
Rodney kissed her, and then pushed himself up from his position between her legs. He stood up and reached for his pants. Catherine held out her hand and he helped her sit up. "When are we going to start working on our scientific writing book?"

"We can start tonight if you want," she looked around for her panties. There, on her desk. How the hell had they ended up on her desk?

Rodney zipped his pants and reached for his shirt. Before she could put on her bra—and how did it get to the bookshelf?—he fondled her breasts again. "That should work. My lecture notes for Monday are ready, and I'm caught up on my grading."

"Rodney," she caressed his hands, "If you don't stop that, we're never going to start this book. What are you researching this semester?" she asked.

"I'm still working on that power source," he replied, letting go of her breasts and pulling on his shirt. She hadn't taken off her garter belt and stockings when he'd fucked her on her sofa, and she looked delicious, standing there in her underwear in her office. "You are so sexy," he kissed her again.

"Mmmm," she kissed him back, moving into his arms. "We haven't christened your sofa yet," she purred.

"Monday?" he leered, kissing her back.

"What brought this on, anyway?" she moved away from him, looking for her dress. It was on her desk chair, and she stepped into it, turning around so he could zip it up for her. He zipped her up, and kissed the back of her neck, squeezing her butt. She found her shoes, under the desk, and Rodney enjoyed the view as she bent down to retrieve them. She had a very nice ass. Rodney tied his shoes, sitting on the couch.

"Why do I need an excuse to make love to my girlfriend?" he didn't look at her as he said it.

"So, Radek called and you two argued for how long—an hour, or two?" she had a saucy note in her voice.

"Cath!" he laughed. "How the hell do you do that? It was an hour, by the way."

"I just know you and I know how you think," she kissed him again.

"You are such a sweet lay, baby," he pulled her close and hugged her, caught up in the moment. "You know that I love you, don't you? And not just the sex. I really love you."

Her heart stopped and she couldn't breathe. Finally, she could speak. "I know. I knew when you asked me to move in with you. I love you, too, Rodney," her voice was soft. She could not believe he'd said it. She'd never expected to hear those words from him, and she was about to cry.

She held him close, hugging him back. She didn't know how long they stood there, but they would have been there longer if there hadn't been a knock on the door. Rodney kissed her and let her go. She opened the door to find one of her baseball players, Jerry Smith.

"I'm sorry to bother you, Dr. Schaeffer, but I wanted to ask you about this assignment," Jerry looked at Rodney, his khakis wrinkled and his shirt not tucked in all the way, and at Catherine, her hair out of its usually neat topknot and messy down her back, her dress creased. He blushed.

"Come in, Jerry. What's your problem?" She looked at Rodney behind Jerry's back, and they smiled at each other. Rodney sat down on the couch, and Catherine moved behind her desk.

Rodney sat quietly and watched her with her student. She was patient, and went over his question until she was sure he understood. "Clearer now?" she finally asked.

"Very clear, ma'am," he smiled at her.

"Rodney, this is Jerry Smith, one of our freshman baseball players. Jerry, this is Dr. Rodney McKay, a professor in the physics department."

"Baseball player, eh?" Rodney stood and held out his hand. "What position?"

"Yes, sir," Jerry replied. "Pitcher."

"Jerry, if you're done, we need to be getting home. We're starting a book together tonight," Catherine said.

"A book?" Jerry looked puzzled. Friday night and they were writing a book? Yeah, right. "Physics or English?"

"Writing scientific papers," Rodney started. "Because—"

"Rodney, off your soapbox. Let's go home," she cut in.

"Good night, Dr. Schaeffer, Dr. McKay," Jerry smiled, sensing he'd been saved.

"Good night, Jerry," Catherine waited for the two men to leave her office, and then locked her door. Holding hands, she and Rodney walked down the stairs. Jerry walked to the other end of the hall to go down the back stairs, watching them. So Dr. Schaeffer had a boyfriend. No rings, they weren't married, but they sure were together. He'd bet a national championship and a minor league contract they'd had sex in her office just before he got there. Dr. Schaeffer was hot, no question, but that Dr. McKay was a total geek. How did that happen? The geek gets the hot chick and the baseball player struck out with every girl he'd met so far. Friday night and he was doing his fucking homework. Maybe he should consider studying harder after all.  
\-------------------------  
"Hi, honey, I'm home," John called. They'd probably already had dinner, and the kitchen was cleaned up. No answer. He walked through to the bedroom. The way those two usually behaved when he wasn't home, they were probably in bed. No one. Working? John walked upstairs to the bedrooms, finding empty offices and no one in the spare bedrooms. He smiled, remembering how Catherine had insisted they 'christen' the new house, having sex in every room. She did have good ideas.

He didn't hear the TV when he came back downstairs, so he went to what they called the library. Rodney and Catherine were there, Rodney sitting on the desk, dictating, while Catherine typed on the computer. They hadn't noticed him yet, so he watched them working. They played off each other, arguing, fighting, and inspiring each other. They worked well together. It reminded him of other times he'd seen Rodney working with a colleague, or with him. They were good together, Rodney and Catherine. And John. All three of them. "Hi, honey, I'm home," he said. His reward was to have them both look up and smile at him like they really had missed him. It was something really nice to come home to. "Are you two at a stopping point? I want to go to bed."

"Do you think he deserves it?" Catherine asked Rodney, clicking on 'save' with her mouse.

"Have you been a good boy today, John?" Rodney asked.

"I've been a very good boy. I was early there and back on time, and I didn't lose any luggage. Does that count?"

"I think that counts. Do you think that counts?" Catherine asked Rodney.

"I think that counts," Rodney smiled. He stood and held out his hand to Catherine. They walked over to John, grabbed his hands, and pulled him to the bedroom.  
\-------------------------

He'd watched as she got in the car with the second of the two men who had been in her house. He helped her get in the car, very solicitous of her comfort. He looked like her lover. Who was he? Another professor, most likely. He'd seen the man come from the direction of the rest of the campus. But this wasn't the Jaguar. Did this professor have another car, or was there another man?

Rodney and Catherine were too busy talking about their book to notice the car following them. It was a nondescript older model sedan, not very noticeable anyway. They were closing the garage door when it drove slowly by their house, and they didn't see it make a turn and drive by again. Now he knew where she lived, and he could find out who she was with. If the man was a professor, he was probably soft and effete, and that would be an advantage when it came time for revenge. He could taste it, and it tasted sweet . . .

\-----------------------  
Catherine slid carefully out of bed. Even though she was the first one up most mornings, John and Rodney insisted she sleep between them. They both wanted to spoon with her during the night, so she just had to be extra careful not to wake them when she got up. She put on her sweats and went downstairs to exercise. She preferred to run outdoors, no matter the weather, but John didn't want her out alone, and she agreed that it wasn't a good idea right now.

Rodney reached for a warm body and found John. He pulled at John's nipples, getting John's attention, and then moved lower to John's cock, finding him hard. John was awake now, and he reached for the lube. "Mmmm . . . Which way, Rodney?"

"You do me. I want you to fuck me," Rodney nibbled John's neck. John rolled over, facing Rodney, and they kissed, mouths open, tongues clashing. John's hands moved between them, and he started stroking Rodney, then grabbed the base of Rodney's erection with his hands and started pumping.

"John, I'm gonna come, but I don't wanna come until you're inside me."

"Roll over," John instructed.

Rodney rolled to his stomach, and raised himself on all fours. John poured lube onto his hand, coating his fingers, and probed Rodney's ass, sliding first one finger, then two, then three in and out. When Rodney was slick and ready, John entered him. John thrust slowly at first, working in and out until Rodney was completely open, then deeper, moaning as his balls slapped against his lover. He reached around to stroke Rodney with the same rhythm, but Rodney was already coming. John grabbed Rodney's hips and fucked him fast and hard, moaning with the pleasure of it, until he came.

Catherine walked into the bedroom, hot and sweaty from her workout, and saw John fucking Rodney in the middle of their bed. His eyes were closed, and his head was thrown back as he thrust. She smiled sexily. They needed this. Sometimes she worried that the novelty of being with her got in the way of their lovemaking. She'd have to change the sheets before bedtime tonight, but it was worth it. Very quietly, she tiptoed to the bathroom to shower, clenching the muscles between her legs. Maybe one of them would be up for a tryst in the laundry room later. That table was the perfect height . . .  
\-----------------------  
John came down with Rodney and heard the shower running. Catherine. He smiled. She had to have seen them, but had she watched? If she'd watched them, she'd be wanting it herself right about now. He thought about her, wet and naked, slick and hot, with her hair hanging down her back. Rodney's breathing slowed, and he heard the shower, too.

John pulled out and rolled to his back. "You want the shower or the table in the laundry room?"

"Shower. Then I can have coffee while you do her on the table," he grinned at John, who grinned back, and they headed for the bathroom.  
\-----------------------  
"Good morning, Rodney," she purred as he opened the shower door. All three of them liked this bathroom, with a shower big enough they could all be in it at the same time and not be in each others' way—or be all over each other if they wanted to do. He looked at her, standing under the waterfall spray, head back, rinsing her hair. Her arms were above her head, and her breasts were high and firm, nipples reaching out to him. Water beaded on her flat stomach, running down into her blonde bush. Catherine tilted her head forward and saw Rodney watching her. Her nipples hardened instantly at the look in his eyes, and she smiled at him. He grabbed the mineral oil, lubed himself, and lubed her as she stepped out of the spray. His finger found her clit and started circling slowly.

Catherine's fingers were digging into Rodney's shoulders. She moaned and wrapped one leg around Rodney's hips. Rodney kissed her, and backed her up against the wall. Catherine gasped as her back hit the cold tile.

"Rodney, please," her voice was breathy and her eyes were closed. Watching them earlier had aroused her terribly.

"Are you ready for me, Cath?" he asked.

"Yes," she jerked as he lifted her and slid her down onto his cock, feeling her jerk as he entered her. Both of her legs were wrapped around his waist now, her thighs gripping him tightly.

John opened the shower door quietly, just enough to slide inside. He didn't want the heat rushing out to distract them. Grabbing the soap, he moved his hand to his cock and cleaned himself in anticipation of having Catherine later. She was making her come noises now, her breasts bouncing against Rodney's chest as he pounded into her. God, they were hot to watch. This was so different from a porno flick. These people were real, and he could touch them if he wanted to. Their desire wasn't faked, it was real. Catherine was really coming, making noises she didn't know she made, as a very real Rodney held her against the wall, muscles straining as he held her and thrust into her. God, he loved them.

"Oh, Cath," Rodney groaned and stilled. John's body reacted as he remembered the feeling of Rodney bucking and coming inside him. He moved his hands and the soap up higher. It wouldn't do to come right here, right now, when a hot, tight, sexy woman would be waiting for him in a few minutes, now, would it?

When Catherine could see again, she looked over Rodney's shoulder at John and smiled. "Enjoy the show?"

"Fuck, yeah," John smiled. Rodney turned and looked at him, not letting go of Catherine or pulling out of her. "You kids need the soap now?" he asked them, his grin full of lech—just the way they liked it. Yeah, that table was just the right height . . .  
e


	12. Chapter 12

"Rodney, it'll have to go to your publisher. My publisher does literary works—I've had a book of poetry and a book of short stories. This isn't their forte."

"Well, the proposal we worked up last night should work then," Rodney and Catherine were making breakfast, arguing again, this time about their book proposal. John had a cup of coffee, leaning back against the cabinet.

"Rodney, you are SO not going to eat that," Catherine looked at Rodney's bowl of sugary kids' cereal and a Pop-Tart. "How the hell did you get that junk in the house?"

"I snuck it in," John admitted, with a 'yeah, I was a very naughty boy expression' on his face. "What are you going to do about it?" his voice dared her. He looked at her very healthy breakfast smoothie, all fruit and yogurt and healthy crap.

"I don't know. What do you think would be appropriate punishment?" she said coyly. THAT was the plan, then—distract Rodney while he took her to the laundry room. God, this was hot. She could feel herself getting wet and ready.

John put down his coffee cup and walked over to her. "I think you should throw my mind in the washer. It's very dirty right now." He took her hand and pulled her into the laundry room.

Rodney wasn't sure which was better. Catherine never bought his favorite kids' cereal, and she positively shuddered at the thought of Pop-Tarts. He could feel the sugar rush already. Of course, the noises coming from the laundry room were positively HOT. Being a genius, he then had an inspiration—he could take his cereal to the laundry room and watch them.

Catherine was naked. John had started shucking her clothes, kissing her senseless, and she hadn't really noticed him stripping them off her. He lifted her onto the table. She was running her hands over his body, through his T-shirt, trying to pull down his sweat pants. He backed his hips away from her, one hand on her breasts, the other between her legs. "I've been naughty, remember?" She was grabbing at him, trying to wrap her legs around him and bring him closer.

Rodney looked at Catherine. She was sitting on the edge of the table. They'd discovered that when she was sitting there, she was at the perfect height to fuck. From the front, they could both be upright, or she could lay back. And from the back, she could rest her weight on it and have something to hold onto while they thrust. Of all the new furniture they'd bought, this was their favorite piece.

"John, you're still being naughty," she moaned, and her eyes opened wide as he touched her clit just right. "Please," she begged.

"You want me, Cath?" he stroked her a little faster and a little harder.

"Please, John," she breathed, and then gasped as she came. John pushed down his sweats, exposing his cock, hard and ready, and entered her. She felt so good, and he started thrusting, keeping one finger swirling on her clit. He came with a groan, feeling her still throbbing around him.

Rodney slipped silently back to the kitchen, sugar rush combining with voyeurism, and he started laughing, giggling really. What a way to start the weekend!  
\------------------------  
"What else are we doing today, guys?" Catherine asked, reading the newspaper with a cup of coffee and her breakfast smoothie.

"We're going to the range this afternoon, and we're going to teach you how to shoot," John announced. "Rodney, you need the practice."

"What did you two do the other day, if you didn't go shoot?" Rodney asked.

"Gun safety, loading, unloading—the basics, just like I taught you," John replied, thinking that they'd also spent a couple of hours in bed.

"He wanted to be sure I knew which end to point, and to not point it at him," Catherine took a sip of her smoothie, smiling at John, remembering the time in bed after their lesson. She didn't like the smell of gun oil, but she hadn't had any problems handling the Glock.

They heard the garage door open, and all of them looked up. The door from the garage into the kitchen opened, and Ronon stuck his head in. "Everybody decent?" he leered.

John stood, held out his hand, and Ronon pulled him into a giant bear hug.

"What?" Rodney smiled at Ronon. "You think we run around naked all the time, and we do nothing but have sex.?"

"I would if it was me," he laughed, then became serious. "Teyla says hello, and she asked if you wanted any tava beans."

Tava beans! If Rodney never saw one again, it would be too soon. "What else is the lovely Teyla doing these days?"

"She and Ladon had another baby, so that's five now. All boys," Ronon laughed.

"I cannot believe she hooked up with that sleaze bag," Rodney laughed.

"He had the hots for her, and finally convinced her," Ronon said.

"Everyone had the hots for Teyla," Rodney laughed, then realized Catherine was sitting at the table. Except when he looked up to find her, she wasn't there. "Where's Catherine?" he asked.

"I was putting on my shoes, Rodney," she came up behind him and caressed him on the cheek, running her fingers through his hair. "Is there some reason we can't go now, John, or do we have to wait until this afternoon?"

"We can go now. Ronon, want to come to the range with us?" John asked.

"Sure. Any money gonna ride on this?" Ronon asked back.

"No, we're teaching Catherine how to shoot," John said.

"I would have thought you'd have done that by now," Ronon was puzzled.

"I wanted things to calm down a little," John explained. "This isn't something you should start in the heat of the moment."

"Good point," Rodney added. Catherine was sitting on his lap now. "Why don't you two strapping young men go get the toys, and we'll wait for you down here."

"I get to carry a heavy box downstairs, and you get to sit here with a pretty girl on your lap and make out?" Ronon laughed.

"Damned straight," Rodney said. "I'm a genius, after all." Catherine laughed and shook her head. Rodney ran his hands up and down her back. She laid her head on his shoulder and hugged him back, enjoying the closeness.

John and Ronon went upstairs, coming back down with TAC vests, and what looked like enough guns and ammo to start a small war. "We don't need all that, do we?" Catherine looked askance.

"Well, we're just going to teach you to shoot the Glock, but we like to play with the rest of it," John looked a little sheepish. "It's kind of a hobby of ours." He looked at Ronon.

"Interesting hobby," she remarked.

"You know we can't talk about it, Cath," Rodney hugged her.

"I know," she rubbed his bicep. "Just making conversation, Rodney. I don't need to know."

"Alright you two," John held out his hand to Catherine. "Let's go."

Catherine took his hand and stood, followed closely by Rodney. John grabbed his coat and the keys to the Lexus, and they drove to the range.  
\--------------------  
John was standing close to Catherine, Ronon watching behind. "Okay, you practiced holding it, practiced aiming it and practiced pulling the trigger. Hold it steady, and aim for the center of the target."

Catherine aimed and fired. She relaxed as John had taught her, breathing properly, and squeezing the trigger gently. She emptied the clip as he'd told her, and then they signaled the all-clear. John brought up the target." Ronon started laughing. "You've never fired a gun before?" he asked. "No. Why?" she looked at him, puzzled. "Rodney, take a look at this," John called. He had an amused smile on his face. "Fuck," was all Rodney could say, and then he started laughing, too. Catherine was curious. "Isn't that what I was supposed to do?" her voice was a little aggravated. John pulled her close, and kissed her gently. "Yeah, baby, it's exactly right," he looked in her eyes. "You surprised us, that's all." "Catherine, most people don't even hit the target their first time out, and you nailed it. You're a natural. We'll keep practicing, but you're doing fine, and I'm proud of you." John kissed her again. "Now, reload it, and we'll do it again." \------------------- It had been two months. He'd been working at the factory for a month, he'd kept up with his attorney and his bondsman, and he'd been learning her habits for two months. Apparently there were two men. Some days, the one with the gun drove her to her office in the Jaguar sports car. The rest of the time, it was the other guy, in his Volvo. It seemed that they lived in the same house. Jaguar was a pilot, he recognized the uniform. Volvo was a professor, a physics professor. Well, no matter. Was she sleeping with them both? His angel wasn't turning out to be such an angel after all. She needed to be taught a lesson, that was clear. If it weren't for her hair, he'd have abandoned her already. He had her schedule figured out now. She was very rarely alone, but there was a brief period of time every other week when the two men weren't in the house. Jaguar was at work, and Volvo ran errands. Friday afternoon. He'd take her then. \--------------------- "Cath, be sure to turn on the alarm after I leave," Rodney called. "I will, baby," she came up behind him. "I'll be fine." "I'll hurry back." Rodney kissed her. "I wish I could take you with me, but the stuff I work with is classified." "I know, Rodney. I'll be fine. Now, go, and I'll see you in a bit." It was closing in on Valentine's Day. She planned to get both Rodney and John a present, so she headed to the library and to get on the Internet to do a little shopping. First, she stopped at the console in the kitchen, and when she heard Rodney close the garage door, she armed the alarm system. She stuck her cell phone in her pocket, and started surfing. \---------------- He knew the house had an alarm. That was a job that had really paid off, working for an alarm company. He'd learned how it was possible to disconnect the system from the monitoring company, so if the alarm went off, no one outside of the house would know about it. He'd have her and be gone before the neighbors could call 911. \----------------- "Look, Radek," Rodney was getting exasperated. "I really don't want to go into this now. I know you still want me to consult, but I'm worried about Catherine. We need to set up something so I can have a secure line at home. I don't like Catherine being alone. That guy hasn't tried anything since he bailed out, but I still have a really bad feeling about this." "Okay, Rodney. We can talk about it next week. I will talk to Elizabeth about getting something set up. Heaven knows, your house is big enough." \------------------ He'd put on his new black clothes. He was getting his tool kit together, and the phone rang. When the call was over, he ripped the cord out of the wall and threw the phone across the room. It impacted with the wall and left a hole in the drywall. He had to go into work. The perfect opportunity finally presented itself, and he had to go into work. Before he moved on, he'd do this boss of his. So what if half the crew had the flu and they were short handed for the swing shift. She had no right to tell him 'come in now or don't come in again.' Bitch. \----------------- Catherine was standing at the stove, making dinner for her and Rodney. This was John's weekend on the long run, so it was just the two of them tonight. She made a small pot of the Asian soup they both liked, and as she was cutting the tofu to add when he came home, something morphed in her mind, and the words started flowing. A body in concrete... She put down the knife, turned down the burner under the soup, and headed for her office. Rodney opened the door from the garage to the kitchen, expecting to see Catherine making dinner. Dinner was there, but no Catherine. He checked the library and their bedroom, listening for the television in the media room. No Catherine. He walked upstairs, and found her in her office. Catherine was neat. She liked order and symmetry. Things out of place bothered her. She was sitting at her desk, typing. That, at least, was normal. But her office looked like the filing cabinet had exploded. There were files and papers all over the place. Every available flat surface was covered with them. "Cath, what's wrong?" Rodney asked. "I had an inspiration, Rodney," she kissed him distractedly as he came over to her—carefully avoiding disarranging her papers—to see what she was doing. "Don't read it, please," she asked him. He looked away from the screen. "Dinner?" "On the stove. Eat without me." "I'll bring some up to you," Rodney started picking his way out of the room. Twenty minutes later, Rodney came up the stairs with two cups of soup and two spoons. Catherine was still typing away, and she barely acknowledged his presence. "Where do you want this, baby?" he asked her. "Here," she indicated the desk. "Can I sit?" "Just shove the papers on the couch over," she kept typing, not looking at him. Rodney recognized the signs. She'd had some kind of idea about her work, and was now totally consumed in it. He'd done this before himself. Well, he could keep her fed, at any rate. If he needed to, he'd spoon it into her. This was tough on the body when you were alone, but they weren't alone anymore. That thought made him smile. \------------------ Late Monday night, John crawled into bed with Rodney. Rodney was alone, and he rolled over when he felt the bed dip. "Cath?" he mumbled. "Just me, baby," John moved closer to Rodney and they cuddled together. For a few moments, they kissed and caressed each other, reconnecting after their separation. "Where's Cath?" John finally asked. "She's writing," Rodney explained. "She's what?" John asked. "She started Friday afternoon when I was online with Radek, and she's barely come up for air since then. She apparently had some kind of inspiration, and has just been going with it. I haven't had sex all weekend." "Poor Rodney!" John laughed. "A bit distracted, is she?" "I literally had to feed her yesterday," Rodney said. "She was typing, and I held the sandwich. I fed her a Pop-Tart Sunday and she never noticed. I had to call Annie to take her classes yesterday. I'll probably have to do that today, too." "She missed her classes?" John sat up. "She's out of it, man. Totally out of it." John got out of bed and started upstairs. He walked into Catherine's office to find the same mess Rodney had three days earlier. Carefully, he walked up behind her. "Cath, why don't you come to bed?" he asked her. "Mmmm," she replied as he caressed her. "Cath?" "I need to finish this chapter. I'll be up in a little bit." "Cath, are you okay?" John asked. "I'm fine, John. Good night," she dismissed him from her mind and continued typing. John was more than a bit put out, but he left and went back to bed. Rodney was already asleep. \----------------- John and Rodney were in the kitchen making breakfast. It was still fairly early, as Rodney had a class at nine o'clock. Catherine stumbled in, carrying what looked like a box of paper. John looked up from his coffee and the paper, and then did a double take. Catherine hadn't showered or changed her clothes since Friday morning. It was now Tuesday morning. She'd eaten only what Rodney had fed her, and she'd fallen asleep at the desk twice, sleeping for a few hours, and then resuming her work. She was tired and drained and hungry. Her gait was unsteady and she was weaving a little, like she was drunk. Her grip on the box was solid, though—she had her arms wrapped around it like it was her lifeline. "God, baby, you look like hell," John got up and helped her to the table. "Are you okay?" "What day is it?" she asked. "Tuesday morning," Rodney set a Pop-Tart in front of her and watched her start to eat it. "Shit!" she put down the Pop-Tart and started to get up. John put a hand on her shoulder to stop her. "We took care of it, Cath," Rodney said. "Annie and I took your classes yesterday, and Annie will take them today. Did you finish it?" he asked her. She nodded. "I need to proof it, though." She handed him the box. "Would you put these in your safe?" she asked Rodney. "My what?" he looked at her. "You have a safe for your classified material. Can you put this in there with it?" "How did you know I have a safe?" he asked her, a funny look on his face. She was reading their minds again. "You deal with classified material. That requires a safe. Therefore you have a safe." She yawned. "Come sit on my lap, Cath," John helped her up, and she laid her head on his shoulder. "Can I read your book?" "Not yet," she yawned, and fell asleep. "Go put her to bed, and I'll take care of this," Rodney indicated her manuscript. He picked up the box, headed downstairs, and locked it in his safe. He and John were back in the kitchen at the same time. "I'm going to call Carson and ask him about her," John sat back down to finish his coffee. "I can't believe you let her get like this." "I kept her fed and watered," Rodney was a bit defensive. "She's not a plant, Rodney," John was a little annoyed. "Did you look at it?" "She asked me not to read it Friday night. I have to respect that," he looked at John. "So do you, by the way." "Okay, okay," John said. "Do you need me to call anyone for her?" "No, I took care of that. Annie can take both of her sections today." "Where did this come from?" "No idea. I came home from meeting with Radek, and she was writing. She has been since then. She just kept brushing me off, so this must be big." \------------------ "So Rodney says she was writing since Friday afternoon?" Carson asked. "Yeah. Now she looks like shit, has hardly eaten anything, and I think she might be dehydrated." "Is she responding to external stimuli?" "What?" "If you pinch her, does she react?" John reached over and pinched Catherine. She rolled over. "I pinched her and she rolled over," John replied. "That's a yes, then," Carson laughed. "Wake her up occasionally and have her drink a glass of water. She'll be fine when she's slept it off." They had it bad for her, Carson could tell. Maybe she was better for them than he thought.


	13. Chapter 13

Except for the box, Wednesday morning was a repeat of Tuesday morning. Catherine stumbled into the kitchen, looking a little better for a day's sleep, and asked, "What day is it?"

"Hey, Sleeping Beauty," John held out his arms, and she moved into them and sat on his lap. "You doing better now?"

"I think so. What day is it?"

"Wednesday, Cath," Rodney put another Pop Tart in front of her.

"We didn't have sex this weekend, did we, Rodney?" Cath asked him.

"Just our usual Friday afternoon in your office," he told her.

"That explains why you're trying to poison me with this," she pushed the plate away and grimaced.

"I offer her the last Pop Tart, and she accuses me of poisoning her," he laughed. "You ate two of them while you were writing."

"You shit," she laughed back.

"What brought all this on, baby?" John asked.

"We had hot and sour soup for dinner Friday," she looked at Rodney, "Didn't we?" He nodded and she continued. "I was cutting up the tofu, and this idea I've had for a while morphed."

"What's it about?" John asked.

"Suspense thriller, murder mystery thing," she replied. "What time is it?"

"Time for you to get in the shower," John patted her ass. "You stink, Girlie. We'll have some breakfast ready for you when you're done."

"Rodney?" she called his name to get his attention, even though she was looking right at him across the table.

"Yeah, Cath?"

"Thank you for taking care of me," her voice held all of the love she had for him.

"You're welcome," held the implicit statement of 'I love you back.' He watched her get up and walk back to the bedroom, smiling at her.

"You said it, didn't you?" John asked Rodney.

"Yeah. About a month or so ago. It was pretty great."

"I do, too, but I can't—"

"She knows. She'll wait. I did," he took John's hand and squeezed it. "You're worth waiting for."  
\-------------------  
"Dr. Schaeffer!" Her jock class stood up and applauded.

"I take it from this reaction that you missed me Monday?" she laughed, looking at their boyish faces.

"That McKay dude!" Jerry was put out. "How come we had that McKay dude? The other sections had TA Annie."

"'TA Annie' had a class of her own to attend," Catherine answered. "What did Dr. McKay do that was such a problem?"

"Well, for starters, he's not nearly as nice looking as you are, Doc," one of the other students put in, and they all laughed.

"Thank you, but that can't be all," she continued.

"He didn't discuss with us," Jerry finally said.

"He didn't lecture, did he?" she asked.

"No. He handed back the papers you'd graded, told us to start talking, and just sat there watching us for an hour. Creeped me out, man," Jerry continued, watching as Catherine laughed. His eyes narrowed appraisingly, and he finally decided 'what the hell' and asked. "What do you see in him, anyway? His rep in the physics department is— mean."

"What do I see in Dr. McKay?" she asked back, and he nodded. "Well, I guess I just love him. He's a very sweet, loving man. No, he's not mean, but he doesn't suffer fools gladly. He's the smartest human being I've ever met, and he's a truly brilliant physicist. And he's very, very sexy. Does that answer your question, Jerry?" she laughed.

"Yeah." He was blushing. She'd succeeded in embarrassing him. "I'm thinking about changing my major to physics, if that's what it takes to get the hot chicks."

When the laughter died down, she continued. "Well, I expect you all to have read the selections for today's discussion, so let's get to it."  
\---------------------  
Catherine was looking through her mail while the three of them ate dinner. "Can either of you dance?" she asked.

"Can we what?" Rodney asked, his fork halfway to his mouth.

"Dance. You know, waltz, foxtrot, polka, that stuff. Basic ballroom, nothing fancy."

"Why do you need to know if we can dance?" John looked at her suspiciously.

"The state bar association annual meeting is coming up, and I'd like to go. I always do, but it would be nice to have a date for a change. And there's a dance after the dinner."

"So, you're looking for a little eye candy for your right arm," John leered a little as he teased her.

"I'm a lot more interested in whether or not you can dance than how you look, although you both look pretty hot in a dinner jacket," Catherine laughed. "Speaking of looking pretty hot, today just happens to be Valentine's Day, and I got you both a present." She pulled two gift bags from under the table and handed them to Rodney and John.

"Ummm, Catherine," John looked terrified. "We didn't get you anything."

"John, that's okay. It's not a big deal. Open these." She looked at them expectantly.

They looked at each other, and then reached in the bags. They pulled out identical pairs of Levis 501 jeans.

"You bought us jeans?" Rodney was puzzled.

"I've never seen a man that didn't have a really hot looking ass in a pair of 501s. Turnabout is fair play, Rodney. You did buy me a black lace push-up bra and matching bikini panties." She looked at him seductively.

"You bought us jeans so you could look at our asses?" Rodney had started laughing.

"Yeah," she smiled at him and winked at John. "The way you say that, all Canadian, makes me wet. I really like looking at your asses."  
\---------------------  
"Rodney, when's her birthday?" John whispered as Catherine took her dishes to the dishwasher.

"I don't know. Look at her driver's license. I'll distract her."

"She took me out to lunch on my birthday. She bought us a present for Valentine's. We didn't get her anything for Christmas, and I don't know when her birthday is. We are so screwed."  
\----------------------  
"Cath, I can't go to the bar association thing with you. You'll have to take Rodney. He can dance, by the way." It was Friday, and John and Catherine had been practicing at the range. John was still amazed that Catherine could shoot the way she did.

"It's your long run weekend, isn't it?" Catherine ran her foot up and down John's leg—her bare foot and his naked leg.

"Yeah. I'd rather dance with you." John was lying on his back in bed, Catherine curled into his side. Having one Friday afternoon free and spending part of it in bed with Catherine was a great benefit of his schedule. The biggest question they had to face was whether they should stay naked and in bed and wait for Rodney, or whether they should have dinner ready for Rodney when he came home.  
\----------------  
They were sitting at the kitchen table. John sat at the head of the table, Rodney on his left and Catherine on his right, closest to the kitchen. This was how they always sat. It was breakfast, and they were each reading part of the newspaper. John put down his paper and cleared his throat.

"Okay. Catherine, today's your birthday. We'd like to take you out to dinner tonight."

"I'd like that. Just tell me what to wear."

"Wear either that red dress you had on our first date, or that little number you wore to the Bar dinner last week." Rodney finished his cereal.

"Which one's sexier?" John asked Rodney.

"Men!" Catherine got up and left the table to get ready for work.

"Well, they're both pretty hot, but I like the underwear with the red one best," Rodney told John. "Now that we've run her off, are we going to that place with the jazz combo?"

"I thought we would. You said she likes to dance," John replied.

"Yeah. She's pretty good at it. I had a lot of those sleaze bag lawyers at the bar association thing trying to cut me out, but she turned most of 'em down so she could just dance with me." Rodney looked very smug, remembering how much Catherine enjoyed their dancing. And how it had turned her on. They had barely gotten in the house when Catherine kissed him and started unzipping his pants. She'd gone down on her knees right there in the kitchen. Before he could come in her mouth, he'd pulled her up and into the laundry room. They'd finished on the table, still fully clothed, and gone for a second round in the bedroom. John was in for a big surprise later tonight . . .  
\---------------------  
Catherine smoothed her stocking over her leg and attached it to the garter belt. Rodney came out of the bathroom and looked at her, sitting on the bench at the foot of their bed. She was wearing only a bra, garter belt, and panties, putting on her stockings, and he thought he'd never seen a sexier sight in his life. Before she noticed him, he went back into the bathroom and called for John. The two of them stood looking at her as she finished dressing, then John turned to get something from his pilot case.

He and Rodney walked into the bedroom. Catherine looked up and smiled at them. They were both wearing their dinner jackets, and they were so handsome!

"Happy birthday, Catherine," John pulled a box out of the bag he was carrying. It was robin's egg blue and tied with a white ribbon. Tiffany's. Catherine untied the bow and opened the box. Earrings. Diamond earrings. They were shaped like an 'X' with diamonds in the four spaces. "These are from both of us—a permanent kiss."

Catherine's heart turned over. They were beautiful. "Oh, guys, they're gorgeous." She took them out of the box and put them on. She kissed them both lovingly. "Thank you."John fiddled briefly with the collar of his shirt, which was suddenly too tight. He busied himself with the bag he held. "Now, Rodney, it's a little early for your birthday, but I wanted to give you two these sooner rather than later."

He pulled two more boxes from the bag, handing one to Rodney and one to Catherine, then pulled out a third for himself. Rodney was opening his, and Catherine was watching John watch Rodney. John had a funny look on his face, and Rodney's mouth was open but—for a change—nothing was coming out.

"John, we said we'd never—" Rodney broke off and looked at Catherine. "Open yours."

Catherine opened her box, and had to sit down. "Oh, John . . ."

John opened his box and pulled out a ring—obviously a wedding band. He slid it on the third finger of his left hand. "This is as conventional as I'm ever going to get, I promise. Rodney, I know we said we'd never be this sappy, but I needed to do this. I just remember looking at your hand, Cath, the first time I saw you. After your tits and your legs, that was the next thing. I don't want anyone looking at either of you like that again. Now, put yours on and let's go." He smiled a sweet smile at both of them, looking a little shy, and very sexy.

Catherine handed the box to him and held out her hand. John took the rings from the box and slid them on. They matched John's ring. Rodney held out his box to John then, and John slid the ring onto Rodney's hand. The three bands matched. They were braided tri-color centers in a solid gold band. Catherine's was smaller, and had a diamond solitaire with it, the diamond larger than she would have believed possible.  
\------------------  
Jerry noticed it first. He usually sat in the seat directly on Catherine's left, and he saw the flash first thing Monday. "Holy shit!" he reddened. "Excuse me, ma'am. I mean, that is some bling. Congratulations!" By this time, the rest of the class was looking at Jerry to see what he was talking about.

"Thank you, Jerry." She held out her hand so they could all see her ring.

"It's that Dr. McKay dude, isn't it?"

"Yes, it's Dr. McKay."

"So you're Dr. McKay now, too?"

"No, Jerry, I'm going to stay Dr. Schaeffer. We decided to leave it like this."

"Did you go to Vegas?"

"No. That part's none of your business," she blushed. Catherine knew she'd never explain how she was 'married' to two men who were 'married' to each other, and she certainly wasn't about to explain how they'd sealed their bargain. That had to have been the longest multiple orgasm ever, but she wasn't calling the Guinness people.  
\--------------------

Next Friday. He'd do it next Friday. He'd told his boss he'd be out of town visiting his mother, so he wouldn't be available if she needed someone to fill in. She'd been peeved, but he'd spun a story about his mother being terminally ill with breast cancer. It wasn't totally a story. His mother had been terminally ill with breast cancer—fifteen years ago.

\-----------------------  
Catherine kissed Rodney, and lifted herself off of him. "Shower or coffee, Rodney?" she asked.

Rodney reached for her, but she was too fast for him. "I'll start the shower, you go start the coffee, Cath."

Naked, her hair hanging loose down her back, Catherine walked to the kitchen. She filled the carafe and ground beans, started the machine, and just about jumped out of her skin when the door to the garage opened.

"Anyone home?" the voice didn't belong to Ronon for a change—it was Carson Beckett.

Catherine started running for the bedroom. "Help yourself to coffee, Carson. We'll be out of the shower in a minute."

Catherine was fast, but Carson still had a glimpse of her, naked and lovely, as she ran out of the kitchen. "They finally took my advice," Ronon laughed. "Running around naked having sex all the time."  
\-------------------  
"Rodney, we have company," Catherine opened the shower door and stepped in.

"Who is it?"

"Carson. He caught me making coffee."

"Ronon's probably with him. Carson's here to give us a six-month check-up."

"Is everything okay?" she asked, looking at him concernedly.

"Over the years, we were exposed to some stuff that could have future ramifications, but so far, we've been lucky. No problems," he was nonchalant about it, but Catherine was still looking at him. He looked at her, smiling. "Honestly, Catherine, we're fine. I promise."  
\---------------------  
Carson was drawing blood from John's arm. John looked at him intently, and Carson asked, "What's wrong?"

"Carson, even though we're careful, there's still the possibility that we could have an accident. Is there some way you can tell if we got Catherine pregnant whether the baby would be okay—at least on our end?"

Carson looked at him for a moment. "Aye. I'd need a sample, and I can check for DNA fragmentation. I saw your rings. You're not considering . . ."

"Oh. No. Just in case, you know. I'm pretty sure Catherine doesn't want kids, either."  
\------------------------  
"I ran all your labs, and you're normal," Carson announced at dinner. "I'm actually pleased that your cholesterol is down."

"Thank Catherine. She makes us eat all this healthy stuff," Rodney laughed.

"What else have you changed about the lads, Catherine?" Carson asked.

"Nothing," she looked at him.

"Nothing? I'm not believin' that," Carson snorted.

"Except for the house and the food, nothing's changed," John looked at Carson, then smiled at Catherine.

"She doesn't even nag about leaving the seat up," Rodney joked.

"Okay, boys. What's your secret?" Carson asked, mock seriously.

"We're perfect just the way we are?" Rodney suggested.

"Of course you are, Rodney," she smiled. Catherine turned the conversation to a serious note. "Carson, I learned a long time ago that it's impossible to change people. No matter what you do, if they don't want to change, they won't change. We're all adults, and we're all set in our ways. John and Rodney aren't perfect, but it's a lot easier to change my attitude to their aggravations than to try to change them. I knew that when we started this. I'm sure I do things that aggravate them. But we're grown-ups, and we respect each other." She took John's hand. "I think that's enough."

"Is there a story behind this I should hear?" Ronon asked.

"If you want, I'll tell you. It's not a happy story," Catherine looked around the table.

"Let's hear it," John said. He was pretty sure he and Rodney had heard most of this, but Carson needed to know.

She put down her fork. "All my life, I tried to earn my mother's approval. My last year in college, she told me the one thing that would really make her happy would be for me to go to law school. Columbia, her alma mater. I wanted to be a writer. That's all I ever wanted to be, but she didn't approve. So, I applied and I got in. I spent three years of my life and thousands of dollars of her money and ended up graduating in the top five percent of my class, Law Review, the whole thing. I even had a judicial clerkship lined up after graduation. Exactly what she wanted from me."

"When she died that July and her will was read, at the end of it, she specifically disowned me. There was a letter explaining it, and she insisted that the lawyer read it aloud, not just give it to me. My sister found out I'd been sleeping with Simon during my senior year of high school, and she told my mom once when they had a fight. In the letter, Mom called me a slut like my Aunt Lucille, Dad's sister, and said that the whole law school thing had been a joke. A way to trap me into something I didn't want, just like she was trapped into something she didn't want."

The four men were silent. John finally spoke. "You've never told us about your Aunt Lucille."

"Oh. Very Katherine Hepburn—Spencer Tracy." She looked at Ronon, who had a very puzzled look on his face. "They were actors about sixty years ago. He was married to someone else, and they had an affair that lasted for years. Aunt Lucille had an affair with her boss. It lasted for years, until he died. He was separated from his wife, but they didn't divorce. Lucille helped me open my first brokerage account."

"So, your Aunt Lucille is responsible for you looking like you do, and for your money, and for your affinity with attached men?" Rodney shot her a mischievous glance. "Where do we send the thank-you note?"

"She lives in Seattle. I miss her—I haven't talked to her in a month. She hasn't called. We used to get together every week when I was in college."

"You know, we've never heard about your college days," Rodney put in. "Or high school."

Catherine blushed. "Nothing special."

"I do not for one minute believe that, Catherine," Rodney continued. Not with your grades, and you don't just apply to Columbia Law and get right in."

"High school first," John insisted.

"Okay. Girls' cross-country team, lettered all four years. Head cheerleader and homecoming queen my senior year. Spanish Club president. Mostly AP classes, including Calculus."

"You mean I'm sleeping with the head cheerleader slash homecoming queen?" Rodney laughed.

"Yes, Rodney, you're sleeping with the head cheerleader slash homecoming queen," Catherine shook her head.

"And the captain of the football team," John added. "College?"

"Chi Omega. President my senior year. Literary magazine editorial board. Basketball cheerleader. Phi Beta Kappa."

"What does all that mean?" Ronon asked.

"That's she's not just hot, she's smart," John answered.  
\-----------------------

He had it all laid out. He was wearing his new black clothes, had the tools to disable the alarm, the restraints for the bedroom. The knife. The gun. The latex gloves and the condoms. The car was gassed up, and he was ready to go. He headed for her house.

As he drove up and parked down the street, he saw her car pull out of the garage. She headed past him and he pounded on the steering wheel. She'd changed her routine. Fuck! This one was turning out to be a real challenge. Well, she'd pay for it. And that hair would be worth it.

\------------------------  
Catherine wrote a note for Rodney. Hey, Sexy—I went to the yarn shop for a minute. I'll be right back. She put the address and time on it—four-thirty—and left it pinned to the garage door, so he'd see it when he came home.

She'd learned to knit in Girl Scouts ages ago. Now, the department secretary had started knitting on her lunch break, and Catherine was intrigued with the sweater she was knitting. Very lacy and feminine, so she'd decided to take it up again. The secretary had recommended a shop in the strip mall close to their house, so Catherine decided to go when she wouldn't have to drag along one of the guys. She was sure they didn't have much of a tolerance for shopping.  
\-------------------------

He followed her to the strip mall. She parked and went into some small store. He parked a couple of spaces over. He got out of his car and looked around. This might be as good a place as any to take her. He could catch her coming out of the store and force her into his car. There weren't many people, and he could do it quickly.

\-----------------------  
Catherine paid for her purchases and left the store. Things had really changed in the world of yarn since she was in scouts. She'd bought enough yarn for a lacy sweater and a pair of socks.  
\-----------------------

"Dr. Schaeffer?"

Catherine looked up as someone called her name. He was to her left, and she turned. He was so close now. Oh, shit. It was him. She paled, and then she felt what had to be a gun pressed into her side. They hadn't talked about this. They'd gone over everything in the house that she could do, but not if he took her on the street. She should not have come out alone. So much for being smart, Catherine, she berated herself.

Think fast, Catherine.

\------------------------

Catherine just stood there. She'd try to keep him here and talk him out of whatever he had planned. She knew that if she got in the car, he'd take her somewhere isolated and sexually assault and kill her. She wasn't ready to die, and she wasn't ready to give up.

"Yes, I'm Dr. Schaeffer."

"You need to come with me, now." He poked the gun into her side. "Quietly."

She had her car keys in her right hand, and she pressed the alarm button. Her car started shrieking.

"BITCH!" he was so angry now. He'd expected her to not resist him, forgetting that she'd tried to escape from him when he had her in her house.

Afraid now that he would shoot her, Catherine executed the move Ronon taught her. She grabbed the arm with the gun and forced it up. He pulled the trigger and the bullet grazed her forehead. Shit! That hurt.  
\---------------------

That was a shot! The owner of the yarn shop looked out the front window and saw that nice professor struggling with a man holding a gun. She called 911.

\---------------------  
Rodney pulled into the garage. Catherine's car wasn't here. Shit. He left his car running and the garage door open and went to find a note. He pulled her note off the door and ran for the car. He'd meet her there and follow her home. He dialed John's cell number on his phone. It went straight to voice mail, so John wasn't back on the ground yet. Shit.  
\---------------------

He was turned toward her now, and she brought her knee up as hard as she could between his legs. The blow was hard enough to cause him pretty severe pain, and he grabbed at his groin. The gun dropped to the ground and she picked it up. She could feel the blood running down her face, but she aimed it at him In the distance, she could hear sirens.

"BITCH!" he screamed, and pulled out his knife. She saw the blade and pulled the trigger.


	14. Chapter 14

He looked up. The sun was setting behind her, and her hair lit up with an inner fire. At that moment, she was an angel, his angel, and he smiled. "My angel," he croaked out. It really hurt.

"You have to tell them, you know. Everything. About all of them," her voice was hard.

"But you're my angel," he croaked.

"I'm your avenging angel. I'm the end of it for you. You can't go out with this on your conscience. You have to tell them everything," her voice hadn't softened. He'd tried to kidnap her, and who knows how many other women he'd succeeded with over the years?

"You're so beautiful," he said.

"Justice is beautiful," she answered.

"Drop the gun!" she heard a voice behind her say.

Very slowly, Catherine moved one hand away from the gun, and moved her finger off the trigger, pointing the gun up and away from everyone. She held her hands out and got on her knees. She put the gun on the ground and put her hands on top of her head. She knew better than to try to argue with a police officer in this situation. One officer kept her covered while the other cuffed her.

"I shot him, officer. Have you called for an ambulance?" She watched him retrieve the gun while the other officer cuffed the man on the ground. "That's probably still loaded, and I didn't engage the safety. Please be careful."

He popped out the clip, ejected the remaining round and put on the safety, then bagged the gun. "There's a bus rolling." He read her her Miranda rights and confirmed she understood them.

"What's your name?" Officer Barrett asked.

"I'm Dr. Catherine Schaeffer," Catherine answered. "Officer, may I please sit down? My knees aren't as young as they used to be." He helped her to his squad car, her hands still cuffed, and put his hand on her head as he helped her into the back seat.

"You want to tell me what happened here?" He had his pad out now, ready to take notes.

"About five months ago, this man broke into my home and tried to assault me. He's currently out on bail on that charge. Detectives Ritter and Johnson were handling that case. I have reason to believe he's been stalking me recently, and I was told by the chief assistant DA that the FBI wants to question him as a serial rapist and murderer. As I came out of the store, he pulled this gun on me and was trying to force me into his car."

"Are you a medical doctor?"

"No, sir. I have a Ph.D. in English. I'm a professor at the university."

"And you say this guy tried to assault you before?"

"Yes. He broke into my house and was waiting in my bedroom when I came home from a concert in the first part of December."

"Okay. Well, I still have to leave you cuffed. I'll have to take you down to the station, but I'll have my partner call Detective Johnson. Ritter's off today. When the ambulance gets here, I'll have them take a look at you after they get that guy sorted out."

"Officer, I don't know if he'll talk or not, but you might see if you can get a confession out of him now. I think I . . . scared him a bit. Even if it's not admissible in court, you might give some families closure."

"Closure?"

"Yes. He's suspected by the FBI of being a serial rapist and murderer. Andy Lawrence told me there's a 'Seeking Information' bulletin that fits his description. I haven't seen it, but Ritter and Johnson have done. Rapes and murders of blonde women in several states. Same MO* as the break in at my house. All still unsolved. If he confesses to the crimes, that will close the cases and give the families closure."  
\-----------------------  
The ambulance was there, with both paramedics attending to the perp. They'd set up an IV, and he'd started talking. Officer Barrett's partner was taking notes.

"Miss, do you want us to take a look at that cut?" one of them finally asked her.

"Yes, please. It's starting to sting a bit."

Rodney pulled into the parking lot. His heart leaped into his throat when he saw all the police cars and the ambulance. There were two patrol cars now, lights still on. He couldn't see Catherine and picked the nearest officer. "Catherine! Catherine? Where's Catherine?"

"Sir, you'll have to stay back," Officer Barrett.

A man came up behind Rodney and addressed the officer. Detective Johnson was here now, and he was going to take over the crime scene. "ADA Lawrence is on the way, and we'll probably have the bureau down here shortly."

"What's up, Detective?" Officer Barrett asked.

"Did she tell you anything?" Johnson responded with a question.

"Just that he'd tried to assault her, and he was a suspected serial rapist."

"Yeah. He is. If the dirtbag dies, she'll have saved the taxpayers a lot of money."

Catherine paled. She felt sick. This wasn't how she'd wanted this to end, with his blood on her hands. But she'd heard Rodney. Rodney was here.

"Excuse me, Officer Barrett? Could I please speak to Detective Johnson?" Catherine asked.

"Hey, Dr. Schaeffer. How are you?" Johnson stuck his head in the back of the squad car.

"I've been better."

"Look, I'm sorry about this, but it's standard procedure. We'll take you downtown and get it sorted out. I can't promise quick, but we'll try."

"Thank you, Detective. Could you please see that someone takes care of Rodney?" she asked him. "I'll be okay, but Rodney's going to have a problem with this. Expect him to be abrasive, but please don't take it personally. I would really appreciate it if you could try to be nice to him."

"Be nice to Dr. McKay. I'll try, but he's not doing himself any favors at the moment," Johnson looked over at Rodney arguing with one of the other patrolmen.

"Detective, could I talk to Rodney for just a minute?"

He paused. "We usually don't allow that."

"If he sees I'm okay, he'll calm down a little."

"Okay. Just a minute, though."

'Thank you, Detective."

"Samuels! Let him through!" Johnson indicated that the patrolman should let Rodney come over to the squad car.

Rodney sprinted. "Catherine?"

Detective Johnson stepped aside, but didn't allow Rodney to touch Catherine.

"Rodney, I'm okay."

"You're hurt," he looked at her bandage, and tried to touch her. "Did you get her medical attention?" he asked Johnson.

"The paramedics took a look at it, Rodney. I'm fine. It just stings a little."

"She's cuffed. Why is she cuffed?"

"Standard procedure, Dr. McKay. We have to do it this way."

"Rodney, just meet me at the police station. I don't think you'll have to bail me out, but I'll need a ride home."

"Cath, I don't want to leave you alone."

"Rodney, I'll be fine. Please calm down, and try to be nice. It'll be okay."  
\-------------------  
"Johnson, what's happening?" Andrew Lawrence, Chief Assistant District Attorney came through the crime scene tape, showing his ID badge to Samuels.

"He came after her here. Deviated from his MO, but it's the same guy. Shoulda never bailed him out, man."

"Well, the judge has always been a bit liberal. I don't know how he sleeps at night. Look, get her downtown and get her out. I'm not charging her for this. I couldn't get a grand jury to indict if I had the incident on video. He's been stalking her, and he tried to kidnap her. Self-defense. Just make sure her story checks out."

"Will do. Look, she asked me to make sure that McKay dude doesn't lose it. You want to babysit him?"

"Thanks SO much. I owe her one, so I guess I can."

Rodney was standing by his Volvo, waiting to leave until Catherine was taken away. He didn't want anything to happen to her. Not that he could really do anything, but he could keep an eye on her. How he was going to explain this to John was another matter.

"Dr. McKay?" Andy Lawrence walked over to Rodney and held out his hand.

"You're the ADA, right?" Rodney shook the hand, but was glaring at Lawrence.

"I am. Look, she shot the guy. You know and I know it was self-defense. But we have to follow procedure, and that's taking her in for questioning. They'll take good care of her, I promise. It'll be a few hours, but she'll be going home with you tonight, as long as her story checks out."

"Can we just get moving, then?" Rodney asked. "I don't like the idea of her sitting there in handcuffs like some common criminal. It would be bad for her reputation for someone from the university to see this."

"I'll see what I can do." He walked back to the detective. By this time, the injured man was in the ambulance and it was pulling out of the parking lot, headed for the hospital.

"Detective Johnson, why don't you get her down to the station and get this started?" Lawrence asked.

"Now that the feds are here, I've turned pretty useless. I'll get Barrett and we'll head down. Barrett's partner, Jones, went in the ambulance. The guy started talking, and he's not shutting up."

"He gonna make it?" Lawrence wanted to know.

"It's about fifty-fifty at this point, according to the EMTs."

"Thanks, man. See you downtown."  
\-----------------  
Catherine was taken to the police station, but not booked and fingerprinted. The detectives questioned her for at least two hours, making sure her story was consistent. She knew she told it in full straight through twice, and went over specific details at least two other times. Finally, they decided it was enough and let her go after she signed her statement.

She picked up her purse and shopping at the front desk, and looked around the lobby. Rodney wasn't there.

Catherine had managed to hold up through the whole thing. She'd put up her emotional wall, and she hadn't cried or broken down, but she was about at the end of her resources. She'd counted on Rodney being there, counted on his emotional support, counted on his physical presence. And Rodney wasn't there.

She turned to the desk sergeant. "Excuse me. My ride was supposed to be waiting for me." She described Rodney, but the desk sergeant indicated no one fitting that description had been there that evening. She paused for a moment, trying to think, but not able to come up with anything other than 'Rodney, I need you. Why aren't you here?' When she could speak again, her voice was small and strained. "Then sergeant, could you call me a taxi, please?"

"Sure thing, ma'am," he tried to keep the pity out of his voice. She was a very beautiful woman, and she was apparently a very good shot. She'd taken out a serial murderer, spent two hours in interrogation, and still had her poise and manners. A real lady. He didn't see many of those here. And now, someone had disappointed her, badly. Bastard. She didn't deserve this. He had a friend who drove a cab, and who he knew would take care of her.

Catherine sat on the edge of one of the hard chairs in the lobby and waited for the taxi. Rodney wasn't there. She thought he'd be there, waiting for her. It was the only thing that had kept her going. She knew she'd be going home to Rodney and John. John should be home by now. But they weren't there. She needed them so much, and they had left her alone.

The taxi driver came in and the sergeant directed him to Catherine. He was very solicitous, helping her into the back seat and closing her door.


	15. Chapter 15

"Where to, miss?" he asked, turning to face her in the back seat.

"I need to find an ATM, please," she looked at the name plaque on the dashboard, "Harry. And then, I need a safe motel. Is there someplace you can recommend?" Her voice was only slightly broken, but that was only because she was maintaining rigid control.

"You should stay downtown at that new Marriott. It's nice, and it has a doorman. I hear the security's good. And they have an ATM in the lobby."

"That sounds fine. Thank you." Catherine was silent for the rest of the trip. She didn't trust herself not to break down if she started talking. Harry watched her in the mirror. Sarge said someone tried to kidnap her tonight, and her boyfriend dumped her. She reminded him a little of his daughter, and he hoped the bastards who hurt her got what they deserved.

When they got to the hotel, Harry insisted on walking her inside, making sure she got to the front desk safely. Catherine paid him and thanked him for his help. Just a few more minutes. She only had to hold it together for a few more minutes. She checked in, got her key card, and went up in the elevator. She closed the door, not turning on the lights, and went to the bathroom. There, she stripped off her clothes, turned on the shower, and sat in the tub with the water running on her, crying as she hadn't cried in years.  
\-----------------------  
"That was Detective Johnson. They cut her loose a minute ago, so you can go down to meet her now," Andy Lawrence had spent the last two and a half hours with a very angry, very impatient Rodney McKay pacing in his office. Fortunately, McKay hadn't spent the entire time yelling at him. He spent some time on his cell phone with someone named John, someone named Carson, and someone named Ronon, setting up meetings and informing them of what had happened.

"Rodney! Where is she?" John ran into the office.

"They just released her, and we can take her home now. Lobby. Let's go." Both men left the room without acknowledging Lawrence. And Andy didn't mind one bit.  
\---------------------  
"Dr. Catherine Schaeffer?" Rodney asked the desk sergeant.

"She left. Are you the guy that was supposed to be waiting for her?"

"Yes. I've been waiting in the ADA's office for the last two and a half hours. The detectives called and told him she'd been released. Finally," his voice managed to carry all the scorn he felt for the incompetence of the people involved in bringing her to the station in the first place.

"She left. You weren't here."

"What do you mean, she left? She didn't have her car. You didn't let her walk out of here alone, did you?" Rodney sounded a bit hysterical.

"No, I called my neighbor who drives a cab, and he took her somewhere."

"And that somewhere would be . . .?"

"Why the fuck should I tell you?" the desk sergeant was warming up to his task. "You shoulda seen her face. She was so disappointed you weren't here. She looked like she'd lost her last friend. But she's a lady, that one. Polite, respectful, composed. I don't think you deserve her."

At that, Rodney started over the desk. John grabbed him before he could assault the sergeant. "Look, this is just some kind of misunderstanding. Rodney's been waiting for her the whole time, and we came straight downstairs right after the detectives called the ADA. Now, can you please find out from your friend where the lady is now?" Anyone who knew John well would have recognized the tone. It meant John was barely in control of his anger, and the person on the receiving end of it would be wise to cooperate.

Detective Johnson walked out from the squad room. Sheppard and McKay were still at the desk. This was not something he wanted to do, but he had no choice. "Sarge, I'll handle this," he said. "Look Sheppard, you're right. We screwed up. We didn't get the message McKay was upstairs until she'd been gone about half an hour. We'll help you find her, won't we, Sarge?" The sergeant was already dialing his friend's cell number.  
\---------------------  
"Yeah, man, I just dropped her off. Downtown Marriott. I made sure she got in okay, and I'm pretty sure she checked in. She is some kind of hurt, man."  
\---------------------  
"Downtown Marriott? A hotel? Why didn't she go home?" Rodney looked at John and the detective.

"For a genius, Rodney, you are SO clueless sometimes. She probably thinks we've abandoned her now that it's over."

"Fuck. Whose car?"

"Yours. But I'm driving."  
\-------------------  
Catherine knew she wouldn't run out of hot water. Hotels didn't run out of hot water. But she was cold. She was so cold, even the hot water couldn't warm her. She turned off the water, shivering, and wrapped up in a towel. She didn't realize she was still crying.

She loved them so much. Rodney had actually said the words. He'd said 'I love you.' She knew John loved her. No, check that. She'd thought John loved her. After everything they'd done together. The house, the bank accounts, the loving. No. It must have been just sex. Well, she'd started over before. She could start over again.

On Monday, she'd call movers to go get her stuff, and she'd store it until she could find a new place. Not a house this time. Maybe just a condo. It was the right time of year to look for a new job, so maybe just an apartment. She loved this place, and she would hate to leave. But how could she stay? Her office was full of Rodney. She'd have to leave the sofa—she'd never look at it again without feeling Rodney's hands on her body and his lips on hers. That's where he'd told her—don't go there.

Her mother betrayed her. Her father refused to protect her. Simon had only used her. Catherine had been alone her entire life. She thought she'd finally found a place for herself with John and Rodney, and now they'd left her, too. This hurt worse than any of the others. Because they'd made promises no one had ever made to her before. That they would love her and care for her, as she loved them and cared for them. She should have expected it. Everyone left her in the end.

Did this place have a minibar? She found it, and pulled out all the little bottles. Catherine rarely drank, but tonight she'd make an exception. She needed to be numb, because the alternative was too painful, and she just couldn't deal with it right now. She opened the first bottle and started drinking.  
\---------------------  
"You or me?" John asked.

"You or me what?" Rodney asked back.

"Is she your girlfriend or my girlfriend?" John asked.

"Fuck. Yours."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah. You look more like her type."

"Did you get in touch with Carson?"

"Yeah. He's at the house with Ronon."

"You'd better get him down here. We might need him to get to her."  
\-----------------------  
"Look, my girlfriend was attacked earlier this evening, and because the fuckin' cops screwed up, she thought I dumped her. She's upstairs, alone, probably really upset, and I need to see her."

"I'm sorry, sir, but all we can do is call. There isn't an answer, so we can't let you go up."

"What if she's not answering because something's wrong? Can't you do some kind of welfare check?"

"Let me get the manager."  
\---------------------  
"You two stay here, in the lobby, and I'll personally go up and check on her," the manager would rather not do this, but he knew he'd never get these men out of the hotel any other way.  
\---------------------  
"Dr. Schaeffer? Is everything okay? This is the hotel manager. Could you please come to the door?"

No answer. He tried to use his passkey, but she had the security lock on. Well, he could get around that with the card in his office, so he'd have to go get that.  
\---------------------  
"Where is she?" Carson asked as he ran into the lobby. He had his medical bag and a small bag of clothes for Catherine.

"She's here, they've as much as confirmed that, but she's not answering her phone," Rodney answered. "And they won't let us up to check on her."

"You want me to get it out of them?" Ronon asked, coming up behind Carson, pure menace in his voice.

The manager stepped out of the elevator and came over to the group. "She's not answering her door and the security lock's in place."

"Look, man, I'm a doctor, and I'd like to take a look at her and make sure she's okay," Carson flashed his Air Force ID badge.

"Let me get the equipment from my office, and you can go up with me."  
\--------------------  
"Catherine?" Carson knocked. "It's Carson. Will you open the door, lass?" When she didn't answer, he looked at the manager. "You'd better open it."

The manager put in the override card, and used a special tool to move the swing-arm lock out of the way. Carson was first in, and he flipped on the lights.

Catherine was lying in bed, wrapped up in the blankets like a mummy. She was passed out, drunk. Carson could smell the alcohol, and he saw the bottles in the trash can. Apparently, she'd tried to empty the minibar.

"Och, lassie," he unrolled the blankets and looked at her. Her hair was wet, but it was still piled up on top of her head. There were visible tear tracks on her face. She was wearing her clothes, at least her sweater and panties. He pulled out his stethoscope and started examining her. "Go downstairs and get John and Rodney, man," he directed the manager. "You'll have a fine head tomorrow, my girl."

She'd be fine. Her pulse was regular, her breathing and blood pressure normal. When he tried to wake her up, she slapped his hand. So, she wasn't unconscious. He turned her on her side and stuck a pillow behind her back. Deciding to make himself comfortable, he brought over the desk chair and sat it beside the bed.

"Catherine?" Rodney, frantic, was the first one in the door.

"She's drunk, Rodney," Carson replied for her.

"Drunk? How the hell could she be drunk?"

"She started on the mini bar, that's how," Carson rolled his eyes.

"Fuck," John ran his fingers through his hair again, disarranging it even further. "So, what do we do now?"

"She'll have to sleep it off, and she'll have a hangover in the morning," Carson felt her pulse again. "Look. This room has a connecting room. Why don't you call downstairs and see if it's vacant? If it is, we'll set up there and take turns watching her tonight."

Rodney was starting to calm down now that he was with Catherine. "I'll call."

The room was vacant, and the manager himself brought up the key cards.  
\------------------  
Since none of them had eaten dinner, they called for room service and ate something. Carson took first watch, and turned on the television. John and Rodney went to bed, for the first time in a long time sleeping spooned together.  
\-------------------  
Catherine moved and her head exploded. She tried to sit up, but the world was spinning the wrong direction. Then the nausea hit. She groaned.

"Are you back with us, lass?" Carson asked. "I'll help you sit up, and then we'll get you to the bathroom."

"Carson?" Catherine croaked. "What are you doing here?" How had he found her? Hadn't they left her? Why would Carson be here? Too many questions for her splitting head. Sitting up was not a good thing. Now the world was spinning another direction, and she looked distinctly green.

He helped her to slowly stand up and started walking with her to the bathroom. "John and Rodney called me. It took me to get them past hotel security."

"Wait outside."

"I'm a doctor, lass."

"I don't care. Wait outside."

"Don't lock the door. If you fall—"

"Wait outside. I don't like people to watch me throw up."  
\-----------------------  
Catherine came out of the bathroom on her own power, unsteady but moving. "Is this a hangover?"

"It is. You've never had a hangover, lass?"

"No. It always seemed kind of stupid."

Carson laughed. "Aye. It is. So why did you do it then?"

Catherine started crying again. "It hurts so bad. Rodney— I just couldn't stand it anymore."

"Och, lass, don't cry. Everything's going to be okay. John and Rodney are here. They didn't leave you, lass." Carson helped her back to the bed and she sat down.

"Rodney wasn't there. He said he'd be there."

"He was upstairs in your friend Lawrence's office. The detectives forgot to call when they released you, and when they got downstairs, John and Rodney were told you'd already left. More than a wee bit fashed about it they were, too. What were you thinkin' lass?"

"I don't know," she paused, still crying. "It just hurt, so much, and I couldn't stay there. I didn't want to start—" she broke off. "Not there in the police station. I didn't have my cell phone, it was in the car, on the charger. I didn't know . . . what else to do."

Carson got her a glass of water and some ibuprofen. "You need to drink this, lass. Start with sips, but I need you to drink this down. You're pretty dehydrated." He watched her drink it down and she held out her glass for more. "When John and Rodney wake up, we're going to take you home. I've brought you some clothes."

Catherine sipped her second glass of water. "Carson. The guy. Have you heard . . .?"

"I'm sorry, Catherine. He died in surgery. But on the way to the hospital, he confessed to raping and killing twenty-seven women. He was an evil man, and you shouldn't let it get to you."

"That's easy for you to say."

He looked at her, and knelt down so he was eye level with her, then took her hand. "Catherine, I've known John and Rodney for over a decade. All four of us, including Ronon, through our direct action, have caused the deaths of other people. And I don't mean just negligence. I mean deliberately taking someone's life. We've all done exactly what you did. It isn't easy, but not blaming yourself for his actions is where you start."

"You'll see it for the rest of your life, Cath. But it gets easier for you to live with." John was standing in the door between the two rooms, leaning against the door jamb, wearing boxers and a T-shirt, arms crossed over his chest.

Catherine tried to stand, but wasn't entirely successful. With a speed that surprised her, John was right there, taking her in his arms and hugging her tightly. She was crying, and he just held her close.

"Oh, baby," John just continued to hold her, "We wanted to take you home and help you through this. I was so scared for you. Why did you leave the house?"

Catherine pulled back. "John, didn't they tell you?"

"Tell me what?"

Ronon joined them. "He knew where you live. He knew your habits. They're pretty sure he was stalking Catherine for at least two months this time. He had tools in his car to disable the alarm system. They traced him back through tax records—he used to work for an alarm company. He could only have known she'd be at the store by following her there. He was going to your house to take her. And they found his . . . trophies. It wasn't pretty, according to Johnson. We're damned lucky Catherine, that you're a tough lady."

Catherine shuddered, and moved back into John's shoulder.

"Lawrence told me, but I didn't get a chance to tell you, John." Rodney was in the room now. "Look, we're all up now. Let's go home."

"Catherine can go with me," All four men spoke at once.

Catherine laughed. It was shaky, and a little forced, but it was a start. "Now you all want to take me home."


	16. Chapter 16

Catherine stumbled out of the bedroom and into the library, wearing one of Rodney's T-shirts and her black lace panties. Rodney was at the desk, surfing the Internet, making comments about physics papers he found.

"Are we into exhibitionism today?" Rodney looked up and asked. "Black lace panties and everything. Trying to show off for Carson and Ronon?"

"I heard you all say goodbye about an hour ago. You guys were loud enough to wake the dead. And, as for these panties, you bought me these, Rodney. And when you had Carson pick out clothes for me, these are the ones he brought. You men have one-track minds. Blame yourself."

John was sitting in his wing chair, feet up before the fireplace, reading War and Peace. It looked like he was almost finished. "And you know you like it that way." He put his book down and held out his arms to her. She moved over to him and sat on his lap.

"Yeah. I do." She kissed him, but when she would have deepened the kiss, he pulled away. Catherine looked at him, confused.

"Cath," he said sternly. She put her fingers over his lips.

"John, what I was thinking was that his MO was to come to the house, not to a populated place. He might take me from here, but not from there. And, it turns out, he was coming here to do just that. It wouldn't have mattered." She looked a bit exasperated. "I lived thirty-five years, most of them alone, before I met you, and I managed to take care of myself except for one run-in with a serial murderer." Her voice mellowed, "Everything you've done, it's because you care about me. And I know that. I'm not a child, I'm an adult woman. I'd like to be treated like one." She reached up to caress his face, but he moved away from her hand.

"What do you want from me then, Cath?" John asked her, his voice flat.

"I want us to start living a 'normal' life, where I don't have to have a chaperone every time I leave the house. Most of all, I want you to love me, John. Just love me." She looked at him, tenderly, with all the love she felt for them in her eyes.

John looked at her, then at the wall. He had a strange, almost pained, look on his face. She waited for him to speak. Rodney watched them, remembering a similar incident where John was confronted with Rodney's love for him. "It's always been really hard for me, Cath. I just— The words—" he couldn't continue.

Now, he let her caress him, and she lingered with her hands on his shoulders, her voice sweet and gentle. "I know that. I know you love me. Your actions speak so loudly, you don't need words." She took his face in her hands and kissed him gently. "I love you so much. I never imagined how this would feel, but it's the most wonderful thing that's ever happened to me. You. Rodney. You're the most wonderful thing that's ever happened to me."

"Catherine," Rodney called her name and she looked at him, turned now in his desk chair to face her. "We will never leave you. Whatever happens, we'll never leave you. You're part of us, and we don't leave our family behind. Promise me you won't ever do something like you did last night." His voice was stern, but his face was worried.

"I'm sorry, Rodney," John pulled her close and she continued, "I know that was stupid. Probably one of the stupidest things I've ever done." She gave a self-deprecating laugh. "I was tired, strung out, and I just couldn't think. When you weren't there, the feeling that came, I just couldn't cope with it. I was so lost. I didn't want to break down in front of the desk sergeant, two hookers and a pimp."

"Two hookers and a pimp?" John laughed.

"He bailed out his girls and they came out at the same time I did. He was kind of eyeing me, and I just couldn't cope with being in public anymore. I didn't know what else to do."

"Catherine, do you have any idea how scared I was when I came home and your car wasn't here?" Rodney started. Catherine looked at John and smiled. They both knew Rodney was getting up a good head of steam, and John just smiled back. "Then I get to the shopping center and there's enough police around to staff a small country, there's an ambulance, and I didn't see you. I just about came unglued."

Just about? Catherine thought, remembering Rodney's frantic attitude at the crime scene.

"Those cops. Why did they have to take you downtown? And it took so long. What the hell were they doing with you, anyway? I was waiting up in that Lawrence guy's office, and he's a real piece of work. I can't believe they got their 'wires crossed' and didn't get the message. That's no way to run a police station."

Catherine laid her head on John's shoulder and they listened to Rodney ramble. John stroked her hair and her back, then just held her close. Finally, Rodney seemed to be winding down.

"Are you two listening to me?" Rodney asked.

"Why did I leave the house, why did I go to the mall, why did they take me downtown, and how incompetent are the cops, anyway? Does that about cover it?" Catherine laughed.

"What?" Rodney asked, offended.

"Rodney!" John laughed with Catherine. "We let you go for about twenty minutes. You can stop now."

"Where did the flowers come from?" Catherine referred to a large arrangement of fresh flowers on the mantel above the fireplace. She looked at John, who shook his head.

"Those are from your gang of admirers at the police station. When the nice lady delivered them, she explained that every flower has a meaning," Rodney was looking like just saying the words left a bad taste in his mouth. "Apparently, the thing is one big floral apology. Sappy." He shuddered.

"Do you like flowers, Cath?" John asked. "We've never given you flowers."

"And please don't start. I'd rather have plants. Houseplants or things I can plant outside," she kissed him. "Cut flowers are nice, but they don't last. The others do." She looked thoughtful. "Maybe I'm into permanence after all. Just no picket fences, please."

"Never, baby. I promise," John smiled and kissed her back.

"What time is it?" Catherine asked.

"Don't you ever wear a watch?" Rodney snarked. "Are we your personal time keepers?"

Catherine laughed. "My watch is in my purse. They made me take it off at the police station. And I don't wear it to bed—you know that."

"You don't wear anything to bed," John smiled his lustful, leering grin she loved so much.

"Except a satisfied smile," Catherine returned. "So what time is it?"

"It's about four-thirty, baby," John answered her.

"What's for supper? I'm hungry," she asked.

"What are you making?" Rodney had turned back to his computer.

"What am I making?" she looked askance.

John kissed her. "I made soup. It's on the stove. It'll be ready in a few minutes. Rodney, hand her the letters."

Rodney got up and brought an official-looking envelope, a letter from her lawyer, and a letter from her aunt. "Start with the official one," he told her.

She opened it. "It's from General Carter. I've been granted security clearance? For what?"

"So we can tell you about everything. We want you to write our story. We decided it was time you knew everything, and Sam agreed," John smiled. "Details to follow."

They wanted her to know? Their trust. They were giving her the ultimate trust, and her heart was doing backflips in her chest. They loved her more than she thought . . . Wow.

"What does Aunt Lucille have to say?" Rodney asked, not looking up from the computer.

"She's been ill. Pretty seriously, apparently. Some infection she picked up on her last foreign trip. I'm not supposed to worry," she rolled her eyes, "and I'm not supposed to rush to her bedside. Damn her."

"You could go anyway," John said.

"No. If she says don't come, she means it. She has a thing about people seeing her if she's not at her best. I did that—once. You never do it again."

Catherine opened the final envelope. She just sat, holding the letter, looking at it with disbelief on her face.

"What?" John asked.

Rodney looked over. "Something wrong?"

"Catherine!" John was getting a little concerned.

"Oh." She looked up. "She shopped my book to an agent, who sold it to a first-line publishing house. They bought my book!" She jumped off John's lap and started doing a happy dance. John just watched her, her breasts jiggling and her face one big smile. "They bought my book!"

"Catherine!" Rodney yelled, trying to bring her down to Earth.

"What?" She was still jumping up and down a little.

"So can we read it now?" he looked excited.

Suddenly serious, she stopped dancing and looked at them gravely. "Not yet. Please. Not yet."

"You let someone else read it—why not us?" John was puzzled.

"What if you don't like it? If strangers like it—or not—it's no big deal. But I think it would break my heart if you don't like it."

"Cath— " John started, but she put her fingers on his lips.

"Let's just go eat dinner, okay?" Her look was pleading, so he dropped the subject.  
\------------------  
"I think we should ask her," John took a sip of his coffee.

"Yeah. Ask her, then," Rodney replied.

"Why does it have to be me?"

"Because you're the one who brought up the subject, that's why."

"You think it's a good idea, too."

"I think it's one of the best ideas you've ever had, but it was your idea, so you should ask her."

"Ask me what?" Catherine came into the kitchen, putting in her earrings. She wore her birthday earrings every day. It was summer, and she was wearing shorts and a tank top, but she and John and Rodney were going to see her boys (the baseball players from her jock section) play in the second round of the NCAA Division One baseball playoffs.

John just about choked on his coffee. "Ummm . . . Rodney?"

"I told you. It was your idea, you have to ask her."

"Ask me what?" Catherine pulled the milk out of the refrigerator and started making her smoothie.

"We were thinking—" John started.

"Both of us," Rodney added.

"Look. If you're going to interrupt me, you should tell her."

"It's your idea," Rodney stuck in another mouthful of cereal, but John still looked at him. "What?"

"Catherine, we were thinking," John paused. And paused.

"I'm beginning to wonder if all this thinking blew a gasket in there," she joked. At John's look, she apologized. "Sorry. I was just teasing."

John took a deep breath, grabbed Rodney's hand for moral support, and spit it out. "Catherine, we want you to have our baby."

Catherine's hand was reaching in the freezer for frozen fruit. Her hand stopped in mid-air, the freezer door open and cold air blowing on her. John and Rodney were looking at her excitedly. "What did you just say?" she asked them, sure she'd heard them wrong.

"Cath, we want you to have our baby," Rodney smiled.

"Yeah," John was smiling, too.

Catherine closed the freezer door and came over to the table. She sat down and looked at both of them. "You said 'baby.' As in I get pregnant." They nodded. "Have you two really thought about what that implies? And I don't mean the sex part. I mean the 'having a baby changes everything' part."

"We have," Rodney said, seriously. "I always thought I'd have kids. After John and I got back from," he stopped, then continued when he realized he could talk about it now, "Atlantis, we talked about adopting a child, or something. But we just never thought it was the right time."

"Now," John said, "It feels right. It feels right to start a family with you." When she still looked at them, he continued. "We had Carson check us out last time he was here. Our . . . " he trailed off.

"Semen? Sperm?" Catherine asked.

John looked at her gratefully. "Yeah. It's fine. Carson checked it out. We've been exposed to a lot of stuff, but our DNA's okay."

Rodney nodded. "We didn't even want to ask you until we knew that for sure."

"So you had Carson check this out in February?" Catherine asked. It was now June.

"Yeah. We've been trying to decide whether or not we should even ask you. Whether you'd want to do," Rodney turned a little pink around the edges.

Catherine sat back in her chair, then got up to finish making her smoothie. She brought it back over to the table. "Do you mind if I think about this for a little while?" she asked softly. She didn't want to disappoint them, but this was a big decision.

"Sure, Cath," John took her hand.  
\-------------------  
They were back from the baseball game, planning a trip to Omaha for the finals. Over dinner, she brought up the baby subject. "Do you remember when I went to the bathroom after the third inning, and missed most of the fourth?"

"Yeah," Rodney said.

"I ran into a colleague who has kids, and we were talking. Before I make my decision, I want to ask you both some questions. First question: Are you willing to have more than one child?"

"We thought we'd start with one and see how that goes," John answered her.

"Next question: It only takes one. The question is, whose 'one' is it going to be? Yours, John, or yours, Rodney? Or, do we take our chances?"

"We weren't sure. We could flip a coin, or take our chances and do a DNA after the fact," Rodney answered. "Then, if we have a second child, it would be the other of us."

She paused. "Rodney, I heard a rumor that you don't like kids," she asked.

"Is that a question?" Rodney asked her. When she glared at him, he responded, "Well, I didn't used to like kids. But since we've watched Maddie and Bradley grow up, I think I've changed my mind."

"Have you two thought about what this will do to your quiet, orderly life? And that you'll both be over sixty when the baby goes to college?"

"We'll be over sixty someday anyway. And we haven't always led quiet lives, Cath," John smiled at her. "You know that now."

"Don't change the subject. You've really thought about this? Rodney?"

"Yes, Catherine. We've thought about this. We wouldn't have asked you if we hadn't thought about it."

"Cath, neither of us had a real family until we started working together. I put together a team, Rodney was part of that team, and that team became my family. Now, with you in our lives, we have a chance to have something we never dared dream we'd have. I feel like I've been given another second chance," John looked at her.

"Do you think I'd be able to be a good mother?" she played with her food, not looking at them. "After all, I didn't have such a good example."

"I think you'll be a wonderful mom," Rodney looked at her not looking at them. "Watching you with Maddie and Bradley, with your students. You like it. You're a natural."

"And you understand that, even if we aren't together anymore, this is a lifetime commitment? Not just financial support, but you would have to be a presence in the child's life for the rest of your life?"

"I'd have been disappointed if you thought otherwise, although you're not getting rid of us that easily," Rodney smirked at her.

Catherine stood up and turned her back to John. She unzipped her shorts and pulled them down a little. John could see the birth control patch on her back. "Take it off," she told him.  
\---------------------  
"So we're starting tonight?" John asked, pulling off his T-shirt.

"Works for me," Catherine kissed him. "Rodney, are you in?" They were standing together, front to front, John's arms around Catherine.

"Sex with you two?" he came up behind John and fondled both of them. "I'm always up for that." He kissed John's neck and ran the hand on John's chest down into his pants. Catherine rubbed up against John, teasing his erection with her belly. She reached around him and grabbed Rodney's belt with both hands, pulling him in close to John.

"We've never done it this way," Rodney murmured, continuing to nuzzle John's neck.

"Upright on the bench?" Catherine asked, moving her lips down John's chest as Rodney stroked his erection.

John leaned his head back, enjoying the sensations. "Fuck, yeah." He was getting harder just thinking about it.

Rodney left John to get the lube, and Catherine moved down, getting on her knees and taking John into her mouth. He groaned and grabbed her hair, trying to remember to be gentle, but it was hard to think with her sucking him. Rodney came back with the lube, and kissed John, tongues tangling. It was so hot, having lips on his mouth and on his cock.

Rodney opened the lube, keeping his mouth on John, and he felt Catherine's hand grab him and start moving. "Mmmm," he said into John's mouth.

John pulled Cath's hair, lightly. He needed her to stop before he came in her mouth. He broke away from Rodney's kiss, "Cath, stop, baby," he moaned. Catherine gave one last lick and stood up.

"Your turn," John pushed her down on the bed and spread her legs. Usually, Rodney went down on her, it was a favorite activity of his, but John wanted to do her this time. When he started sucking, Catherine jerked and moaned. He could feel Rodney behind him, preparing him with his fingers, stretching him and moving in and out.

"Cath, are you ready?" Rodney asked.

"Yes, Rodney," she gasped. "You?"

"Yeah. John?"

"Let's do it."

Rodney moved to the bench, straddling it, leaning back on his elbows. John settled slowly onto Rodney, letting out a satisfied sound as Rodney filled him all the way. He leaned back for Catherine, and she watched hungrily as the muscles in his arms corded, supporting his weight off Rodney. She crawled to their end of the bench, and kissed Rodney. He tasted John. She broke off and kissed John, tasting herself, then straddled his legs, and guided him into her. She started moving, keeping her legs wide so she could feel John on her clit.

She was moving for all three of them now, all three of them wearing similar looks of pleasure. John could feel Rodney against his prostate, and that was enough to send him bucking into Catherine. She started making her come noises, and Rodney let go, pouring himself into John.

When she could think again, she realized that couldn't be the most comfortable position for John and Rodney, so Catherine got up quickly. John pulled himself off Rodney, and Rodney collapsed on the bench. John kissed Catherine deeply, pulling her close and guiding first one leg and then the other around him, so he could lift her off the floor. He laid her down on the bed, still kissing and fondling her. Rodney went to the bathroom to clean himself. When he came out, John was between Catherine's legs, thrusting into her. Rodney stroked himself, watching them for a few minutes, then he went over to the couple and found Catherine's clit with his hand between them.

Catherine exploded as Rodney's fingers worked their magic, and he nuzzled John's neck as John covered Catherine's body with his own. Her legs were wrapped around John tightly. Finally, he gave a harder thrust and came inside her again. Rodney kept stroking her. John kissed him, patted Catherine's legs until she let him go and rolled off, replacing Rodney's finger with his own.

Rodney was hard and ready again. He entered Catherine with a sigh of contentment and began moving. Her legs tightened around him as she continued to make the noises they loved to hear. John looked at Rodney's face. The expression was bliss, pure bliss, and John knew how Rodney felt. They loved each other, and they loved her, and they gave each other intense pleasure. To be responsible for that feeling in your lover was powerful, and John reveled in it. He watched Rodney come, and slowed his finger on Catherine, letting her down slowly. When they were down, all three of them crawled under the sheet and went to sleep, Catherine spooned against John, Rodney close to her, their arms around each others' waists.  
\--------------------  
"Catherine, are you done in there? We've got our first classes today," Rodney called as he walked into the bathroom. Yes, they had a huge shower, but only one toilet and he needed to use it. She didn't answer him. "Cath?" He walked around the bathroom and looked for her. "Cath?"

Catherine was sitting naked on the floor, looking at something in her hand. She handed it to Rodney, a stunned, terrified expression on her face.

It was a pregnancy test, and clear as day, there was a plus sign. They were pregnant.  
\--------------------  
Catherine slowly walked out to the kitchen to get a glass of water. She stopped cold. That smell—coffee. Oh, god. She ran for the sink and threw up.

"Are you okay, lass?" Carson came up to her, carrying a cup of the offending liquid. Catherine started heaving again.

"Cath?" Rodney came into the kitchen. "Carson, lose the coffee. Are you okay, baby?" he came over to her and rubbed her back.

"Are you sick, lass?" Carson was concerned.

"It's the coffee," Rodney snarked. "I'm no longer allowed to have coffee in my own home. It makes her sick."

"Fuck you, Rodney," Catherine groaned. "It's all your fault, anyway."

"Coffee? Why coffee?" Carson asked.

"For one of the most brilliant medical minds of the century, you're a little slow on the uptake," Rodney looked at Carson. "Voodoo. I've always said it. Medicine isn't science, it's voodoo."

"You two fight it out. I have to go get dressed for work," Catherine got her water and walked slowly out of the kitchen.

Carson still looked puzzled. "Morning sickness, Carson. Catherine's pregnant," Rodney looked very pleased with himself.

"Pregnant?" Which one of you . . .?" Carson trailed off.

"We don't know yet. We'll have you figure it out when he's born," John came into the kitchen. He looked just as proud as Rodney. "I'm betting on Rodney and that it's a boy."

"Which isn't much of a bet, because that's what I think, too," Rodney smirked.

"You're both happy about this?" Carson was very surprised.

"Yeah. We are," Rodney smiled bigger.

"We were trying," John explained. "For a whole month." He and Rodney high-fived each other. "Now, move out of the way so we can get some of that coffee."  
\-----------------------  
Somehow, Rodney had allowed himself to be the new sponsor of the physics club. Catherine, in an equally misguided fit of whimsy, had become the sponsor of the writer's society. In those capacities, they were now attending the homecoming bonfire to supervise their clubs' entries in the effigy contest.

Jerry, now a sophomore and in their technical writing class, watched them. Rodney had his arm around Catherine's shoulders, and she had her hand in his back pocket. Everyone on the team thought he was a chump to change his major to physics, but he liked math and he'd always been good at it. He was actually enjoying his physics class more than any of his others, except perhaps for technical writing. And, to his delight, he'd had more dates since he changed his major. Apparently a sophomore physics major was much sexier than a sophomore physical education major.  
\---------------------  
Friday afternoon, and Catherine was home with John and Rodney. She'd been listening to them try to decide where to put the nursery when the doorbell rang. Looking through the sidelight, she saw an unfamiliar man wearing a suit and tie and overcoat and carrying a briefcase.

"I'm looking for Catherine Schaeffer," he asked.

"I'm Dr. Schaeffer."

"Dr. Schaeffer, I'm Josiah Marks, of the Seattle firm of Lester Marks and Allyson. We represent your aunt, Lucille Schaeffer. May I come in?" He handed her a business card.

"Certainly, Mr. Marks," she moved aside and motioned for him to come in. "Do you need a desk?"

"A table will be fine," he said.

"Why don't we go into the kitchen? Can I offer you some coffee?"

"I'm from Seattle. I"d love a cup of coffee," he laughed.

Catherine busied herself making coffee for Mr. Marks and tea for herself. She could stand the smell now, but still couldn't drink it. Her obstetrician said that would probably change after the baby was born in a few months, but then she wouldn't want the caffeine if she was nursing. Go figure. She brought both mugs over to the table and sat.

"Dr. Schaeffer, I regret that I must be the one to inform you, but your aunt, Lucille Schaeffer, died last week."

Catherine was stunned. She'd spoken to Aunt Lucille two weeks ago, and Aunt Lucille had insisted she was fine. Now she was dead. "What happened?" tears were pooling in her eyes.

"She had a heart attack. Related to her illness last spring. An infection she picked up on her last trip overseas. Sudden, but not unexpected. I'm very sorry. She asked me to give you this personally," he handed her an envelope from his briefcase.

Catherine opened it and read, 'Dear Catherine: If you're reading this, then I must be dead. Don't worry—it was my time, and I'm not apprehensive. I wanted you to know how proud I am of you and how happy I am that you've found love in your life at last. John and Rodney sound like wonderful men, and they're lucky to have you. And, frankly, it's just unconventional enough to make it worth my while. I'm just sorry we weren't able to get together more often. I hope you'll remember me fondly, and I'll keep an eye on you if that's allowed. All my love, Lucille.'

"Why wasn't I called? I should have been at the funeral." A tear dropped onto the paper.

"She didn't want you to come. There really wasn't a funeral—she didn't want one. Her ashes were interred with her lover, and there was no formal ceremony. She didn't want you traveling in your condition," he looked at her burgeoning belly and smiled. "I know for a fact that she was thrilled about your baby."

"That sounds just like her, I guess," Catherine was openly crying now, her hands protectively over her belly.

"Cath, what's wrong?" John's tone was sharp, and Catherine could see that he was ready to do battle with Mr. Marks if that was necessary.

"Where's Rodney?"

"Right here, Cath," he came up behind John.

"Aunt Lucille. Aunt Lucille died."

John handed her the box of Kleenex off the counter and knelt down to hug her as she cried. Rodney came up to Mr. Marks. "I'm Dr. Rodney McKay. You are . . ."

Marks stood and shook hands with Rodney. "I'm Josiah Marks, Lucille Schaeffer's attorney from Seattle. I'm sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but Miss Schaeffer asked me to handle this matter in person."

"This matter?" John looked at him. Catherine let him go and he stood as well. "John Sheppard." He offered his hand to Mr. Marks.

"Dr. Schaeffer inherits her aunt's estate." They all sat.

"What estate?" Catherine asked. "I know she owned her house, but surely there's not much more than that."

"On the contrary, Dr. Schaeffer. Your aunt's lover left her the majority of his estate when he died. It is now yours. You are quite a wealthy woman now."

"As opposed to ten minutes ago?" Rodney snarked. "She already had her own money."

"I'm aware of that, Dr. McKay," he turned to Catherine. "Lucille told me how she opened your first brokerage account for you. She bought most of the stocks you recommended for her own portfolio. Well, your aunt was confident, as am I, that you will do an equally fine job administering their charitable foundation as well as the money that comes to you outright. The house is yours to do with as you choose, as is the personal property, but she wanted me to being you the contents of her safe deposit box and her jewelry case personally." He opened his briefcase again and took out a large manilla envelope, handing it to her. "The jewelry is locked in the trunk of my car. If you'll excuse me for a moment, I'll go get it."

"Cath, I'm sorry. I liked your Aunt Lucille," John pulled her close again.

"Me, too, Cath. I enjoyed talking to her on the phone," Rodney took one of her hands. "She was so funny and sweet."

"She liked you guys, too. I was kind of afraid she'd make a pass at you if I took you out to Seattle." She laughed a small laugh through her tears, remembering the few days in the summer she'd spent with Lucille. "She was so excited about the baby."

"I"ll go let Marks back in," Rodney said as the doorbell rang. A minute later they came back into the kitchen.

Marks took a smaller envelope out of his suit pocket. "Your aunt was given this by her lover many, many years ago. She wore it every day, and asked that I give it to you separately. She thought you might find it especially significant." It was a heavy rope chain, braided with three colors of gold.  
\--------------------  
Before Christmas break was over, the three of them went to Seattle to close out her aunt's house. Catherine convinced John to buy his own plane, and he flew them there.

"She had some nice antiques," John looked at the living and dining rooms. "We could work these into the house."

"I love this house, period," Rodney looked around. "What do you want to do with it, Cath?"

"I'm not moving back to Seattle," Catherine rubbed her belly, an aggrieved expression on her face. The baby was really active right now. "Maybe just rent it? It's close enough to the university to be attractive to a professor."

John looked at Catherine, smiling. "Is he a busy boy right now?" he came over and put his hand to her belly. "Rodney, come feel this," he called. Rodney joined them, and they stood in the middle of her aunt's living room feeling their child move under her heart.  
\---------------------  
"Well, why didn't you just cancel your class and come home?" Rodney asked as he helped Catherine into the kitchen.

"They're just Braxton-Hicks contractions, Rodney. They don't really hurt so much, but they're annoying and distracting. Not enough to warrant canceling class."

"Braxton-Hicks, lass?" Carson asked.

"Ugh," she rolled her eyes and started waddling to the kitchen table to sit down.

"What are Braxton-Hicks contractions?" Ronon asked from his position of leaning on the table.

"Fucking annoying," Catherine answered, and Carson laughed.

"They're like practice contractions, Ronon," Carson answered.

"Hey, Cath," John stopped her midway to the table, blocking her path through the kitchen. "Guess what came today?"

"No idea, John," she moved sideways so he could hug her without her belly getting in the way.

"Close your eyes," he said, then turned her to face the table. Ronon moved out of the way. John walked her slowly and carefully over. On the table was a display of her new book, the one she'd written over the weekend a year ago before Valentine's Day. The box of copies for the author had arrived from the publisher today, and the book would be in stores next week. Her agent told her the publisher was marketing her as 'the next John Grisham.' What a big joke! When she was at the table, he told her, "Open your eyes."

Catherine opened her eyes. "Oh, my god," her knees went weak and John grabbed her. She turned and looked at him, something like fear in her eyes. "Did you read it? You didn't read it?"

"Cath, I did. You said when it came out, we could read it," he looked at her, her face needing reassurance. "Cath. It's fantastic."

"I couldn't put it down, lass," Carson put in. "It's very, very good, and very, very suspenseful."

"Catherine, it's really good," Ronon said. "I don't read much fiction, but I liked this."

Rodney had a copy open, sitting at the table reading it, ignoring the rest of them.

"What's wrong, Cath?" John held her.

Her voice was very small and far away. "I've just been so afraid you wouldn't like it."

"You'll let the rest of the world read it, but not us?" John laughed.

"What if you don't like it?" she asked. "Yours are the only opinions that really matter. If you don't like it—"

"Cath, it's terrific. I loved it. Carson and Ronon and I sat here and did nothing else all day but read your book."

"You like it?"

"I do, baby," he kissed her.

\--------------------  
He was sixty years old and today was his retirement ceremony. The FAA required pilots to retire at sixty, regardless of health or fitness. The house was full—so many people from his life were here—but his bedroom was an oasis of quiet and calm, thanks to Catherine. John looked in the mirror, not really seeing the lines and the grey hair. He still saw himself as thirty. Maybe thirty-five. He'd seen this face before, of course, when Kolya had captured him . . .

"You're still as handsome today as you were when I met you in Antarctica, Flyboy," Rodney came up behind him, and their eyes met in the mirror. He paused, not looking away. "I love you, John."

"I love you, Rodney," they embraced but didn't kiss.

Rodney knew how hard this day would be for John. Flying was everything to him, and now he was forced to retire. Rodney and Catherine still had their work, but John was now cut off, adrift, from the activity that had defined most of his adult life.

"She's putting on her stockings. We should go watch," Rodney smiled.

"Don't want to miss that," John agreed.  
\------------------  
The formal ceremony was over, and the group had moved to the clubhouse for the party. John went to the raised platform they'd arranged for his speech, so he could see everyone. There were Elizabeth and Radek, one grey and one bald, but still very much in love. Teyla and Ladon and two of their five children. Jack and Samantha O'Neill. Caleb and Jeannie Miller, Madison, her husband and their daughters, and Bradley and his wife. Carson and his wife, Anne. Evan Lorne and his wife, Anne. Richard Woolsey and George Schaeffer, walkers and all. How many years had it taken Catherine's father to get a clue? He couldn't remember now. So many people from the airline, the SGC, and from Atlantis. Ronon and TA Annie-what a match they turned out to be. Police Chief Johnson, Chief of Detectives Ritter, and now Governor Lawrence and his wife.

Where was Catherine? He saw Rodney talking to Radek, Samantha, and Jeannie, Elizabeth watching with a bemused smile on her face. Still arguing over physics. They'd finally published the final collaborative paper that would establish Earth's general knowledge of the Zero-Point Energy Source. Next year, they'd be in Stockholm for the Nobel Prizes, John was sure. Still no Catherine. Oh, well, he should start. He could see people getting restless.

John clinked his glass with a spoon. Everyone turned to look at him, quieting down and waiting for him to speak. Where was Catherine? Rodney came up to him, and they held hands. "I was told I had to make a speech, so here goes," John reached into his suit jacket pocket and pulled out a piece of paper. "No worries—it's pretty short. First, the thank yous." John started reading names and acknowledging people who had been influential in his life, starting with the people at his airline.

"For my last individual thing, I want to thank Rodney. I had no idea when we met that we would be friends, much less lovers, for so many years," John felt a hand on his back. Catherine. Finally. "Rodney, thank you for being patient enough with me to get my head around our relationship back in the beginning, and for sticking with me all this time. And that brings me to the person we both want to thank," John looked down at Catherine.

Catherine. Still bright blonde long hair, beautiful face showing some laugh lines he wouldn't ever let her erase, and a body that could still stop traffic. Her hips were a little bigger than when he'd first met her, but otherwise, she hadn't changed. At almost fifty, she was still the most beautiful, desirable woman he'd ever met. She was still teaching at the university, but she was also a best-selling author of suspense thrillers—and children's books. Blood, sex and gore for the grownups, and sweet, gentle stories for the kids. That was Catherine—a walking contradiction, and part of what made her so fascinating.

"The second most life-changing day of my life was the day I went to Rodney's office to take him to lunch, and ended up taking this gorgeous English professor to lunch instead. When it was just me and Rodney, we thought we had everything we needed, but Catherine brought us color and life and excitement and things we didn't even know were possible. Through the years, the unconventionality of our relationship has been harder for her than us-much harder. Censure, rejection, all that stuff, she's put up with it with a grace and dignity that fill me with awe. Cath, you are the most amazing woman we've ever met. The peace and calm you create in our home stuns me every day. You're never jealous, rarely cranky, and you can always tell us apart, without looking, even. Looking back, I can only marvel at the things you've done for us. Starting with our sons," John gestured at Peter and Aiden, standing directly in front of him. I'm really pissed to no longer be flying, but I know I have no right to complain, not with everything else I have in my life. I love you, baby." He kissed her, then addressed the group, "Thank you all so much for coming."  
\--------------  
The last guest had gone home, the caterers had packed up the last glass, and it was finally quiet again. John, Rodney, and Catherine were in bed, naked, touching, kissing and enjoying the afterglow of their lovemaking.

"Cath, we have a present for you." John reached into his night table drawer and pulled out a box. Robin's egg blue, more jewelry from Tiffany's. There had been a lot of beautiful things over the years, each piece chosen as a permanent symbol of the love they had for her. Opening the box, she found a bracelet of Xs and Os. "A permanent hug and kiss." She held up her wrist, and John fastened the clasp.

Tears in her eyes, she kissed them both, caressing their handsome faces.

"We have a present for you, too, John," Catherine looked at Rodney. Rodney reached into his bedside drawer and pulled out an envelope. He handed it to John expectantly.

John opened it to find three airline tickets for Colorado Springs, Colorado. "What . . .?" he asked.

"We got permission to take Catherine to Atlantis. When school's out, the boys are going to Jeannie's, and we're going to Atlantis."

John's eyes teared up. They hadn't been back in twenty-five years. Would it still be the same? Of course. It hadn't changed in ten thousand years, so why would it change in twenty-five? It would be good to see his old haunts, but even better would be seeing them again for the first time, through Catherine's eyes.

"You two do love me, don't you?"

Catherine and Rodney looked at each other. "We do."

They always would.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.


End file.
